Consequences, Baby
by HeartsandEyesDelight
Summary: Grissom does a guest lecture in Boston while Sara's at Harvard. They have a one-night stand, and there are consequences... nine months' worth. But she can't seem to get ahold of him... Now Complete! Please review!
1. Impulse

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or the characters

A/N: This is another that will not be updated regularly. Proof-reading was minimal. Oh, and for those who have gotten frustrated at me sticking to canon, this story will only very briefly follow their real story, and then it'll go off on it's own.

If you do choose to read, please review. It makes me smile. :) Enjoy!

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Chapter One: Impulse

I wasn't the type of girl who had one-night stands by any means… I was conservative in my love life—always monogamous and committed, always waiting until or past the third date to kiss, always cautious about who I trusted and who I let in. Furthermore, I was very level-headed. The only emotion I ever got swept up in was anger—I have one hell of a temper—and I think before I act, I look before I leap. I'm not impulsive. Ever.

So you can understand that it was with great surprise that I found myself not only in a bed that wasn't mine, but in a bed that wasn't anybody's—a hotel bed. I hated hotel beds—a single thought to what a single UV scan would reveal made my skin crawl. Despite that, I was here, pressed deliciously between those questionable sheets and the sexiest man I had ever had the pleasure of even seeing, let alone touching.

I guess, even now, I can't truly explain what came over me. …Maybe it was those blue eyes, or the boyish grin… or the positively _erotic_ way he said "evidence…"

Maybe I should just start at the beginning…

I was nearing the end of my third year at Harvard, looking forward to a summer internship with my favorite psychics professor. Finals were over, with the exception of an introductory forensics class I'd taken on a whim—instead of a final, we were having a guest lecturer come in—attendance to the lecture counted as the final exam. The guest speaker himself promised to be interesting—he was an entomologist (not so interesting) but he worked for one of the best crime labs in the country.

Needless to say, nerd that I was, I arrived twenty-five minutes early—before the guest lecturer himself had even arrived. My teacher gave me a knowing smile when I entered, probably not even remotely surprised to see me there.

Ten minutes of reviewing the forensic entomology book I'd borrowed from the library and I was enthralled—I found myself wishing I'd been prepared and gotten the book weeks ago, so I could get the full experience out of the lecture.

…When Dr. Gilbert Grissom entered the lecture hall, now sparsely populated with early students, I realized that my five senses and a room to be alone with him were all I'd need for a _full experience_. Never in my life had the mere sight of a man reduced me so quickly to sheer physicality—synapses firing, hormones raging, senses overloading, and body heating and reacting so strongly I blushed, feeling certain it must be painfully obvious to those around me and to him… for his eyes had now locked on mine, and I could not tear myself from them.

My sudden interest in forensic entomology dissipating, I doubt I heard a word he spoke during the entire lecture, and when every other student rose, rushing for an exit, I slowly mad my down to him, our eyes holding each others' again.

I didn't know what to say to him when I reached him; I just knew that I was drawn to him like a Lepidoptera to a flame. Fortunately, he didn't seem to need words. I stopped before him and we spent a moment simply gazing into one another's eyes, enjoying the proximity. I drew in a deep breath, smiling, and he spoke.

"Dinner?"

I nod, beaming, but we don't make it that far. He takes my hand as we leave the building, heading for, I assume, his vehicle. But, of course, as I'm too busy gazing at the god of a man beside me, I stumble over a crack in the sidewalk, and he catches me, arms around my waist, as natural as anything.

I don't know exactly who kissed whom first in that moment, yet there we stood, having exchanged nothing but a single word and a myriad of amorous gazes, wrapped up in the most passionate kiss I'd ever known.

His lips were soft on mine, moving gently yet hungrily, drawing me in, until I was positively breathless and aching with need. His tongue slid against my bottom lip seductively, before sliding into my mouth without needing nor waiting for an invitation. The second it flicked gently against mine, a jolt shot through me, straight down my spine, coiling into an uncontrollable longing in the deepest part of my abdomen. A moan escapes my lips at the contact, and then his hands are gripping me tightly, a deep groan echoing up from his throat.

I gasp as he breaks away from the kiss, those indescribably blue eyes searching deep into mine, and apparently seeing the answer to a question, because he nods to himself, and speaks to me a second time. "…Do you have a place we could go?"

I'm nodding before I realize really what he's asking, and then I'm shaking my head instead. "…I have a roommate. Your hotel room?"

He nods frantically, pulling me rapidly behind him to his car and leading me decisively to the passenger seat to let me in.

I worried, as he walked around to his side, that the time spent in the car—awkward without conversation—would change the urgency of the moment… make him change his mind. And so as soon as he was seated, I let my fingers slide up his thigh to brush softly against him.

He moaned out loud, his hips rising just slightly to increase the pressure. "…We'll never get there if you don't stop."

I grin. "I'll never stop if we don't get there…"

He looks at me, a desperate man, for one long moment—and then he's reversing out of the parking lot recklessly, and driving much too quickly, while my fingers seek out his dimensions, to wrap around as best I could through his pants and apply pressure. My slow yet persistent strokes elicited erratic breathing and a myriad of sounds—from groans and moans to actual whimpers of longing and growls of frustration—and by the time he had parked outside his hotel room, he would certainly not be able to walk inside without drawing attention to the result of my attentions…

He looks at me in frustration, and I ease his discomfort, getting out and walking around to pull him out—his eyes are wide, but I pull him tight against my back, and though it certainly doesn't solve the problem, it will sufficiently hide it. I grin. "I hope it's not a long walk…"

He pushs against me, grinding his erection hard. "It's too long already…"

And with that we began to move, him guiding me through a set of back doors, and into an elevator, which was thankfully empty. I rotated my hips back against him and he gasped, pulling me back hard, his hands tight on my waist. A _Ding!_ Rings out, and then he's pushing me out of the elevator, down a short hallways, and frantically pulling a key from his pocket to unlock his door.

He pushes me through it, almost roughly, and slams it behind him as if in great relief. Taking a single, long, frustrated breath, he looks me up and down.

"Good lord, you're beautiful…" he looks at a loss for a moment, and I realize he had wanted to say my name at the end of that sentence… but I'd never told him.

"Sara. And you're not so bad yourself… _Dr. Grissom_." I added, in my best bedroom voice.

He growled again, kissing me with pent up passion and lust and desire, walking me rapidly backwards until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I let myself fall back onto it, our lips never breaking apart.

Though every touch and every kiss and every caress was urgent, nothing felt uncaring. He was not a man using a woman for sex—he was a man having sex with a woman. The difference was tangible every time his fingers contacted bare flesh—which was more and more often, as slowly we began to follow our bodies' leads and pulled clothing from each other as if it were nothing more than an irritation.

But once completely naked, pinned between the aforementioned sheets and the aforementioned man, I sense his hesitation, and again, our eyes meet. They're asking for permission, and I know that mine grant it. There's more hesitation—"I… I fly out of town tomorrow, Sara. Are… are you sure?"

I don't know, truly, how a person like me got into this particular situation—but I _was_ sure, and I wanted to leave no doubt in his mind. I arched my body up against him, and moaned, "God yes…" and he draws in a shuddering gasp, those amazing eyes closing and then reopening, with a new fire present. And then I feel him against me, pressing at my entrance, and then slowly sliding within me.

I had never, ever felt so good… no other man had ever felt as fulfilling… and I was flung into a delirious kind of pleasure as he began moving within me, his breathing picking up in time with mine, his lips coming down to taste mine again and again.

"Oh, god… so… so good. Doctor… doctor… Griss… oh god."

A surprised chuckle bubbled up from his lips, and he tried to speak, between heavy panting.

"Sara… call me… Gil… not… not Dr… oh god you feel good, Sara, you feel so… so good."

We tried to make it last, even though it felt amazing… we slowed down, we switched positions, and I swear I even heard him reciting insects by class, order, and phylum under his breath… but the feeling was so intense, so overwhelming, so unbelievably pleasurable… that it wasn't long before I was close, and begging him to come with me, which he happily obliged.

We collapsed, exhausted, in a heap of sweat and heat and satiation, and slept deeply, reveling in the beauty of the passion we had shared.

The next morning, he kissed me awake, telling me that he had an early flight—neither of us were upset, or bitter… We showered together, and made love again—starting against the shower wall, but finishing, soaking wet, on the bathroom floor—and then dressed, and he bought me a coffee and drove me back to campus, dropping me off at my car.

I left my name and phone number for him, and he smiled and tucked it into his pocket—maybe it was just a show, but it did make me feel like he wanted to keep it. It made me feel good. I kissed him again—deeply, passionately—just to be sure he remembered, as he was leaving, how much he would be missing me… and then I got into my car.

We smiled, and waved, and drove off in different directions, and though I didn't know if I'd ever see him again, I just had a feeling that my life was going to be different from now on—I was different, because of this man.


	2. Consequence

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Sorry it's such a short chapter... :) Let me know what you think...

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Chapter Two: Consequence

He didn't call me, and though it made me a little sad, I was not deeply hurt—I had entered into the encounter fully expecting it to lead nowhere, and I had certainly enjoyed myself. Truth be told, it had been months since I'd had sex, and I had needed the release desperately—I just hadn't imagined how amazing it would be—and how amazing _he_ would be—when I finally got it.

Yet three weeks later, when I stopped taking the little green pill to take the little purple pill for a week, nothing happened. …I blew it off, at first—I'd been stressed over finals, and I'd taken a few pills at strange times, because of it… I was certain it just threw my cycle off. But when days passed, and my monthly visited never came… I panicked.

Understandably, I should think.

I bought a handful of pregnancy tests—all positive.

I had a break-down in the shower—an all out panic attack, worthy of medication and perhaps restraints.

And then, I tried to call… Gil? Dr. Grissom?

It was hard to know exactly what to call him… and he wasn't listed in any directory, so I resorted to calling the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and asking for him. The call was strange… to say the least.

It rang, for several minutes, which seemed like a strangely long time to wait for an answer at a crime lab. Finally, the line picked up, and the man speaking into it was not speaking to me, but to someone on his end, at first.

"-od damn it, where's Judy? Shouldn't somebody be out here answering the---Hello? Las Vegas Crime Lab."

I stuttered, surprised, trying to get my bearings… it didn't help that I'd been waiting nervously—it certainly wasn't an easy thing to tell a man you'd had a one-night stand with that the birth control pills you'd assured him you were on had been less than effective.

"I, uh… I'm… I'm… Can I speak with Gil Grissom?"

The man sounded harassed. "Gil's out in the field, can I take a message for him?"

"Yes, uh… could you… could you please tell him to call Sara Sidle… I'd better leave my number, just in case…"

After rattling off the string of numbers, and him repeating them, irritated, back to me, he speaks again. "Is this a business or a personal call?"

"Oh, uh… I… I guess it's personal. But, uh, it's very urgent… if you could please give him the message…"

"Yeah, I'll make sure he gets it…"

"Thank yo—" The line disconnected. I sighed deeply, and called my doctor, to schedule an appointment.

I let an entire week pass before I thought about calling again… and though I dialed the numbers, I hung up after the second ring. I could wait a little longer… I didn't want to badger him.

Two more weeks passed, and I went to my doctor's appointment—not that there was anything new. Surprise, you're pregnant, about six weeks… the only person I'd been with any time recently had been six weeks ago.

And then, I called again. This time a woman, who seemed much more pleasant, answered.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab, this is Judy, how may I help you?"

"Hi, can I speak to Gil Grissom please?"

"Sure, I'll transfer you over. Who shall I say is calling?"

I hesitated, but decided that if he didn't want to talk to me, he would hang up on me anyway… "Sara Sidle… uh, from Boston." I added, to be sure he would know who was calling.

"Sara from Boston, okay, one moment please…" I hear her push the button and the muffled silence of being on hold. I tap my fingers, expecting a lot wait, but it's picked up almost immediately.

"Grissom's office…" It was a woman's voice. It took all the strength I had not to hang up then and there.

"Uh… I'm… looking for Gil Grissom?"

"He's up to his elbows in ballistics gel at the moment… Can I take a message?"

"Oh." She's probably just someone he works with… someone he's working a case with, and that's why she's in his office, answering his phone like she owns the place. "Um… yes, could you… could you please tell him to call Sara? Tell him… tell him that it's really important, even if he doesn't want to talk to me… he needs to call me."

"…Okay…" she sounds curious, but not suspicious… not like a jealous girlfriend. I draw in a deep breath. "And that was… Sara?"

I nod, even though I'm on the phone. "Yes. Sara, uh… from Boston."

"Alright, I'll have him call you."

"And you'll tell him it's important?"

"Absolutely."

I sighed in relief. "Okay… Thank you." I hung up the phone without waiting for her goodbye, and calmed myself with slow, deep, even breaths… I was absolutely certain that he would call me now, it would just be a matter of when he got around to it.


	3. Decisions

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: So... please don't hate me?

Also, maybe a review or two? :)

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Chapter Three: Decisions

I gave him another month—I was ten weeks pregnant—and I called, one last time. If he didn't want anything to do with me, I wasn't going to let him make decisions about my life and my baby… I certainly wasn't going to go out of my way for it.

Apparently, I hadn't called late enough. I was informed that he wasn't in yet—wouldn't be in for his shift for a few hours—and I left yet another message. I told myself that if he didn't call back within the month, I would consider myself a single mother… and make my decisions based on that. It was a difficult decision to make but then, I hadn't really made it—he had.

And when a month passed, and I was fourteen weeks pregnant, I decided to figure some things out for myself. I would stay in school, for the fall semester—my due date was in February—so I would have two months before the baby came to fully prepare myself. …I still wasn't sure if I was going to keep it, or look into adoption… I'd have to figure out some things.

Right now though, I just wanted to focus on having a healthy pregnancy. I took my pre-natal vitamins, I ate well, I exercised, and I kept up with my school studies—I wanted to graduate only a semester behind my normal plans. I was going to go to grad school, whether I kept the baby or not, and getting pregnant at nineteen wouldn't stop me.

I had always been a fighter; I didn't know why now would be any exception.

I moved through the fall semester in a daze—and I distanced myself from people I knew, because they asked questions I was neither willing nor prepared to answer.

"But, Sara, who's the father?"

Even if there hadn't been a part of me, still, that wanted to protect him… I also didn't want to be the girl who slept with the guest lecturer and was now pregnant with his bastard baby. I loved my baby too much for that—he or she was much loved, regardless of whose sperm had granted life. And there was another part of me that didn't want to say it was his baby because, in my mind, it wasn't anymore.

I had given him ample opportunity to seek me out, to see what was 'urgent.' If I had been a meaningless one-night stand, then not only did I not want him to be the father of my baby, but I didn't want to be linked to him for the rest of our lives just because we'd parented a child… a child he would view as a mistake—a regret as much as his night with me was.

"Are you going to keep the baby, Sara? How will you work, pay for daycare, and go to school…? Can you support yourself and a baby on one income? …Babies are expensive."

Yes, I knew that, thank you very much. And I wasn't sure… I knew that there was a lot of support for single mothers, but there was certainly a part of me that struggled with the idea of taking money—it made me feel, in a way, like I was a ward of the state again… me and my child.

Not to mention, I knew I could finish a semester with a baby… I didn't know if I could go through grad school with a baby… move across the country to attend said grad school, with a baby and no support system—no friends, and certainly no family…

It was the hardest decision I had ever made in my lifetime, but I made it—and called several adoption agencies in the Boston area, making sure I had found the very best one—with the most stringent application requirements. I wanted my baby to have the very best life—to go to a family who wanted a baby and couldn't have one… a family that was stable, and loving, and safe. I wanted my baby to have the life that I couldn't give it on my own… something better than I felt I could provide.

And, selfish though it was, I wanted the baby to go to a family without a large extended family… I wanted the baby to come back to me, in the event that something happened to its adoptive parents—I was absolute in this requirement—because I was no okay with some aunt or cousin or nephew of the people I chose out of thousands just getting handed a baby they hadn't wanted nor been chosen to raise.

It was in January that I went in and began looking at family applications, and started communicating with couples. I narrowed it down, little by little, and finally chose people I felt would be absolutely perfect, in the last week of January.

They were Tom and Erika Stevens. They lived in a suburb of Boston, and they were upper-middle class, college-educated individuals. Tom had grown up in California, like me, and moved here for Harvard, like me. He was a lawyer, well-respected, and he had a reputation in his field of being more honest than it was necessarily lucrative to be—but I liked that. Erika had grown up in Boston, attended Boston Bay, and wrote children's books.

Tom only had a mother alive, and she lived in a nursing home—she would certainly be unable to take a baby—and Erika's parents were both deceased. Her mother had died when she was a teenager, of breast cancer. Her father had had a stroke a couple years previous. They were older, to be adopting… but that just meant that they were well-established in their lives… and they were not old, either. A couple in their mid-thirties could be expected to live long enough to raise a child to adulthood.

They had both always wanted children, even though they'd both been only children, and were thrilled to hear that I was even considering them for my baby—they'd thought, because of their age, that they might never get chosen… And when I asked who the baby would go to, if something happened to the pair of them, they were at a loss… they looked at me fearfully, like they thought their lack of a support network would make me choose someone else.

When I explained my true motives—my concern over wanting to choose exactly who would have my baby, and not wanting my baby to ever be with someone I had _not_ chosen—they happily offered to let me have the child, in the unfortunate event that something did happen to them.

We signed papers, and when I went in for my final appointment before my due date, they came with me, all smiles and anxious anticipation. One look on the ultrasound, however, and the doctor informed me that my baby—their baby—our baby… was breech. It's butt was down in the birth canal, head still up under my ribs, right next to its feet…

He scheduled me for a C-section the next morning. I had never been so afraid in my life. Tom and Erika picked me up the next morning, and stayed in the room with me during the procedure—I was awake, the entire time. I couldn't believe that they were keeping me awake…

Tom's reaction to the whole thing was less than helpful—he looked green, and mostly paced the room, trying to throw out encouraging sentiments any time he could open his mouth without gagging. Erika, however, held my hand, brushed my hair from my forehead, and soothed me gently—we were both mothers, in this moment, and she knew my fear intimately, because it was her own.

When we got to see her, I burst into tears, squeezing her tight to my chest, the pain of losing her too great to bear. She already had brown hair on her head—I wondered if it would be dark brown ringlets, like mine, or tightly wound, soft brown curls, like her father's. Her eyes were blue—his blue—and though I knew they could change, I didn't think they would. She was dimpled, and beautiful—all ten fingers and all ten toes of her, the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.

I kissed her, and told her that I loved her… and I passed her over to people I knew, deep in my soul, would love her as I did… as deeply as if she were their own, and maybe even more deeply, because she had not come so easily to them.

I cried and cried, but I knew in my heart that I had done the right thing.


	4. Time

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Hopefully I'll have another chapter up tonight, since this one is so short... if not, it should be by tomorrow.

Tell me what you think, especially about the little girl! :) ..Also, does anyone know what's coming next?

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Chapter Four: Time

I had changed quite a bit in the six years since I'd given birth—I was a lot more mature, a lot more grounded… I had finished my degree that summer—the summer of '92—and had moved to Berkeley, California to attend grad school that fall. I spent four years in grad school—getting my masters in both psychics and forensics, and then I spent a year going through all the required training to work in law enforcement, working in the lab in the meantime.

By 1997 I was working in the San Francisco lab as a CSI, level one. I knew who I was, I loved my job, and I was proud of my accomplishments… I wasn't exactly sure I regretted giving up my little girl, but I knew if I could go back and do it over, I would have found a way to keep her. Even if it meant giving up everything else…

I hadn't exactly kept in touch with Tom and Erika—it was too hard, for me… and I figured they deserved the chance to be normal parents, without the birth-mom hanging around, making things uncomfortable. But I got a picture of her, every year, on February 16th—her birthday, and I always wrote a letter back. They named her Halle Mae Stevens—Halle because Erika had always wanted to name a little girl that, since she was little herself—and Mae because it was Tom's grandmother's name.

Her eyes stayed blue, but her hair actually turned very blonde within the first six months. I didn't have any blondes in my family, and I found myself wondering if Gil had any in his… In truth, I wanted to hate the man, but I couldn't bring myself to it. The only interaction I'd had with him—actually with him, not with the people who answered his phones—had been gentle and kind.

Her one-year old picture was of a chubby-cheeked baby in a highchair with golden curls at the nape of her neck, blue eyes sparkling, white frosting coating nearly every inch of exposed skin. She had the smallest of clefts in her chin, big dimples, and a single tooth in her smile. She looked happy, and healthy, and well-loved. I cried, but I really was happy.

Her two-year old picture had her with shoulder-length blonde curls—strawberry blonde, almost—and in a pretty pink party dress, a balloon tied to her wrist, and a boxer puppy by her feet. She was hugging Erika, and blowing a kiss to the camera, which I was certain was held by Tom. Her lips puckered beautifully, and I remembered kissing her desperately before handing her away.

Her three-year old picture showed a girl with darker blonde hair, the hints of red becoming more obvious, the blue eyes as striking as ever. She had an all-too-familiar gap-toothed smile. I hoped they would get her braces if her permanent teeth had the same gap—I had always hated mine. She waved at the picture, and I positively ached existing without her.

In her four-year old picture I saw a tall, bright-eyed little girl whose hair was almost brown now—the hints of red still more striking. She was blowing out the candles of a princess cake, surrounded by other little girls—she had friends. That made me feel good. On the back of the picture, Erika had written that they called her their little chameleon, because her hair color had changed so much since birth.

Five-year old Halle held up a butterfly cake for the camera, and was clad in a butterfly wings. She was in a bedroom decorated in butterflies, and her hair was truly auburn now—a brilliant reddish brown that made her eyes stand out, bright and beautiful. The eyes that were her father's—the eyes which hadn't changed, despite the changeling-like nature of her hair, and the dimples… both had remained the same.

Six-year old Halle Mae had her auburn curls up in a pretty pony-tail, and held up a glittery heart Valentine that said, clearly in her own hand-writing, 'To: Other Mommy Sara From: Halle Mae Stevens." She was still writing her e's backwards, but the intent was clear. Erika had written on the back that she now read the letters I'd written, one in response to each of the five other photos, and she had made an extra Valentine for me at school.

Once again, I cried and cried. But she was clearly happy, clearly healthy, clearly beautiful and smart and well-adjusted. I couldn't hope for more than that...


	5. Lecture

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Yay! I got it up tonight... let me know what you think! Thanks for all the reviews!

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Chapter Five: Lecture

I had been a CSI for a year, and was fast approaching my hundredth case and level-two-dom when I attended the forensic academy conference. It was in-town, but I still took several days off, so I could attend as much as possible. I had lost the flier I'd stolen from my lab, but thankfully they had the lectures listed online, with times and locations… they didn't list the speakers, which was disappointing—I had wanted to attend ones from my old teachers, and I wasn't sure what they were called, but still, I was glad to have found a schedule.

I couldn't attend the first day, but the second day—Tuesday—I found myself in the third row of a giant lecture hall, looking around somewhat nervously. It was a lecture about a double murder in a garage, focusing mostly on the anthropology side of forensics, but the flier had said there would be a taste of forensic entomology thrown in, which made me nervous.

I was sure, as _he_ was an expert on the subject, that he probably wouldn't attend just for that… but maybe he was interested in the rest of the lecture? …It didn't even need to make sense—just the words 'forensic entomology' made me nervous. I fidgeted in my seat, scanning the crowd, but I didn't see him anywhere, and I started to relax. He would probably attend the much more in-depth and specific lectures… the general ones, like this one, were mostly for entry-level CSIs.

I had just convinced myself that I was unlikely to see him at all—I didn't even know for sure if he had come to the convention, I was just being paranoid—when he entered the room and walked smartly up to the podium. I gasped, though thankfully it was muffled by the people moving around and taking their seats and rustling their papers to get ready for the lecture to begin. I thought wildly of getting up and running away… or at least moving to the back row—maybe I could hide myself in the bustle of people moving?

But everything seemed to quiet rather quickly, and I was granted no escape. I turned frightened eyes to the man at the podium, and he seemed to see me, in that moment, for the first time in over seven years. And, to my great confusion and surprise, he looked happy to see me—excited, even. Initially, of course, he looked confused to find me there, but… the happiness was clear.

I didn't understand it… and I couldn't tear myself from his gaze—my daughter's gaze… no, shit, _our_ daughter's gaze—until someone coughed, and he seemed to realize he was supposed to be speaking. He turned from me, to glance around the room and back to his notes, and I took the opportunity to look away from him, not allowing myself to meet his eyes again. I could not possibly be swept up in this man again—not after everything that had happened.

When I realized that that was exactly what I was doing, I felt disgust strong and potent within me—bile actually rising in my throat at the idea of what I had gone through, because of this man—what I had given up, because he didn't want to face the young girl he'd slept with on a whim. Well, I was no longer a teenager, and I was not swooning over a man simply because he was attractive and intelligent and passionate.

I wasn't. …It would truly be horrible of me, to fall for him again.

As soon as he finished speaking, I forced myself out of my seat, rushing for the exit, and even though he was surrounded by people wishing to ask questions, somehow he fought them all off, and made his way through the crowded doorway and to me, clutching my elbow gently, to stop my movement and gain my attention, his smile intoxicating; I hadn't realized, since it had been so long since I'd seen him, but Halle had his smile too—My teeth, but his lips… the entire shape of his mouth, the precise upturn at the corners, all too knowing.

"Sara. Sara from Boston, right?" At my pale skin, and frightened expression, he frowns, his eyes narrowing. "…Uh, maybe you don't… remember me. Gil Grissom. I… did a guest lecture, at Harvard, seven years ago. In Dr. Robert's—"

"I remember you." My words came out in a soft rush. I could not believe he was speaking to me this way… as if neither of us had sought out any contact in the past seven years… as if there was any way I could not remember the man who had impregnated and become completely impossible to get in contact with.

He smiles, a little awkwardly. "Uh... I'm sorry. You… obviously had somewhere you needed to go. I was just… hoping to catch up. It seems like… fate was against us, all those years ago… and yet here you are, after all this time, looking every bit the beautiful young girl who left me completely speechless." He shuffles his feet, like he's uncomfortable—like he thinks he's said too much—and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Well, anyway… uh, it was nice seeing you, Sara."

My eyes are narrowed, and I'm frozen in place, my brain trying to catch up with his words and my arm still tingling with his contact—despite my best efforts to be unaffected by his presence. Without thinking, I call him back to me—I need to understand what he means. "Gil!"

He turns, and sort of half smiles, moving back over to me. I suddenly find I don't know what I had intended to say, and I swallow hard, looking at my feet, stalling for time. "Uh… Gil, I… what… what did you mean about… fate being against us, back then?"

He smiles, softly—my discomfort seeming to ease his. "Just that… well, it's just so ridiculous. I… I felt guilty for… for how badly I wanted to call you, when I came home—I felt guilty for… what had happened, because you were a student and you were… so young. So I didn't call, right away and then… when I finally realized that I couldn't stop thinking about you and that I was… just being stupid… I realized I had washed the jacket I'd put your phone number in—I couldn't read any of it."

My eyes are getting wide, my mouth becoming dry. I find myself shaking my head, even as he's continuing, my world crashing around me. "And you'd never even… told me your last name, so I… I had no idea how to look you up. And then you called the lab—Catherine told me you'd said it was urgent, but you hadn't left a number… and again, you called during the day, before I was at the lab yet… and yet again, they hadn't taken your number down… I figured—I hoped—that you would call again, Sara. I told everyone who ever worked next to a phone to make sure they took a number…"

I close my eyes, not allowing myself to process his words. The truth of them—the implications—are too far-reaching to comprehend. "I called, before that… a man answered, yelling about… Judy? not answering the phones, and… I left my number, Gil."

He looks perfectly bewildered. "A man? …I can't imagine who that would have been…"

"He didn't seem like he was used to answering phones… he… he asked me if the call was business or personal…"

His eyes close in anger and frustration. "Ecklie. A few weeks before you called, he came into my office and yelled something about my personal life interfering with the lab… I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he meant."

I'm slowly dying inside, but to him, this is all just an unfortunate misunderstanding… he smiles, even. "So… maybe we could grab a cup of coffee? Or, hey, we can get the dinner I owe you…" He grins, a little cheekily, but the charm is completely lost on me. I've lost the ground beneath my feet, and I'm falling into blackness.

I don't know how, but I manage out a few words—"I, uh… I have to go. I'm… I'm really sorry, Gil." And then I'm rushing away from him, my head spinning.

"Sara!"

I turn to look at him, in surprise, still disoriented. I feel like I'm losing my balance—I don't even know how I'm standing anymore.

"You, uh… You still haven't told me your last name…"

I swallow hard. "…Sidle. Sara Sidle." How is it fucking possible that, had I uttered these words seven years previous, all of this would be different? My baby would be _mine_, all mine, and nobody else's?

He smiles, a little bemused at my expression. "Where are you working…? Boston or—"

"No, I… I work here in San Francisco."

He still looks confused, his head tilting slightly. "I'll… I'll look you up, okay?"

I nod, silently, and walk away from him in a daze. Nothing even seems real right now. …Nothing but the pain.


	6. Omission

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Sorry the update took a while... hope you like! Please review!

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Chapter Six: Omission

I didn't attend any more of the convention—I was lucky I had taken so much time off for it though, because I spent a good deal of my time in hysterics. I took burning showers, which helped after really bad cases, I tried to read but couldn't sit for any period of time, even though they helped after nightmares… I listened to my police scanner, I spent an entire night getting myself fully intoxicated, and the entire morning—from midnight straight through sunrise—on the cold tile of my bathroom, vomiting at first, but eventually reduced to dry heaves and wet tears.

I felt an emptiness in the depth of me—in my belly and in my heart—in my very core… an emptiness that hadn't been there since I had first given her away. I had given away the only thing that was precious to me, and now I knew… it had been for nothing. If only I had tried harder… been less proud… less afraid of his rejection and scorn… less afraid of men in general, and their inevitable tendency to let you down in the end…

I had to tell him. I knew it deeply, completely, but how was I to tell a man I'd given away the child that he'd never known he'd had…? Given her away, as if she meant nothing, because I hadn't tried hard enough… I resolved myself to tell him, and happy in that resolution, I let myself collapse further.

And by the time I had stopped grieving, the convention was over, and he was surely back in Las Vegas. I'm certain I would have called him, once I had worked up the courage to do such a thing—but I never had to. He called me days after the convention had ended, and I tried very hard to explain it to him…

"Hello?"

"Sara?"

"…Yes?" I'm pretty sure I recognize the voice, but I waited for him to speak.

"It's… ah, it's Gil Grissom, from… the convention and… and Boston."

He sounds uncomfortable, like he's nervous… like he doesn't know how to talk to me. I try to be nice… to ease his discomfort. It isn't his fault. It's mine.

"Yeah, I… I remember."

"I… I know it must have been weird to see me again, after all this time. I… I can stop calling, Sara, I just… even seven years later, I still find myself thinking about you… about that night."

I blink back tears. "…Me too."

He sighs, in a bit of relief. "I… I didn't see you at the convention, after Tuesday… I was worried you were avoiding me."

I swallow hard. "I, uh… I got sick. Couldn't get out of bed…" That wasn't a _complete_ lie. I _had_ spent more of my time in bed… and I had certainly vomited enough to have been sick…

"Oh…" his tone is all sympathy and sweetness. My heart flutters involuntarily. "I'm sorry you weren't feeling well."

I nod, over and over again, trying to keep myself calm. "Yeah, it… it wasn't fun."

I can hear him breathing softly, and his fingertips drumming sedately against whatever surface is in front of him—I'm not making conversation easy, but I don't know how to talk to him… how to tell him of my indiscretion… my inadequacies.

"Well, uh… I'm sure you're busy, Sara. I… I didn't mean to… interrupt anything. I just… missed you, strange as that sounds."

I had missed him too. My heart ached with that truth, and a quiet sob slips from my lips involuntarily.

"Sara? …Are… are you… okay?"

I shake my head no—fervently. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." My voice breaks, revealing my deception.

"Sara… what is it? Is it something I said…?"

"…No. No. It's… it's not you. It's… me. I…"

I tremble. Sobs slip again.

"You… you don't have to tell me now, Sara… just… calm down, okay?

I nod, trying to stifle myself, and he murmurs soft, soothing words for a few minutes, while I calm myself. …And with a deep breath, I brace myself for what I need to tell the man. What he had an inherent _right_ to know.

"Gil, I… when we—"

There's a strange thickness—the way a phone sounds on hold—for just a moment, and then he's speaking.

"I'm really sorry, Sara, it's the lab on the other line… I'm sure they're calling me in early."

I nod, giving up all too easily, the temporary relief so freeing I practically felt lightheaded. "Okay, that's… that's fine. I'll… talk to you later?"

I can hear his smile, even over the phone. "I'd… really like that. Goodbye, Sara."

"Goodbye, Gil."

The call ends and I set down my phone, guilt immediately stealing the free feeling of only a moment before. I hadn't truly escaped anything. I was still at fault—and I still had to tell him.

Next time, I promised myself. Next time I'll tell him.

But the next time he was excited to tell me about the new CSIs he'd just hired, and I reasoned that I certainly couldn't ruin his good mood. It had already waited seven years…

And the time after that, he was upset… he had investigated the death of a child. And he knew exactly who had done it, but he couldn't prove it… the DA wasn't going to file, because a key piece of evidence was deemed inadmissible due to shoddy police work. He was so angry—so upset about the look in the child's parents' eyes, upon losing their baby…

I couldn't tell him that he, too, had lost a baby. What an inappropriate time.

After that, he sounded tired, or sick, or stressed… and eventually I reasoned that it simply wasn't something you could tell a person over the phone, really. I would have to find a time to see him, in person… show him the pictures, explain the position I'd believed myself to be in…

And it was a lot harder to run from someone, to avoid a conversation, in person… I wouldn't be able to run from it, or make excuses, as I knew I had been… for an entire year.

I received her seven-year old picture in mid-February—auburn curls, dimples and gap-tooth, Gil's smile and eyes and cleft chin… his ears, too, I realized, in surprise. She looked so much like him… and she was more beautiful than ever. She was tall-she'd sprouted up in the past year-and looked happy, again. She had a little mermaid birthday cake, this time, and she and all her friends were wearing little plastic Ariel necklaces. I grinned, at the sweetness, and the cheesiness, of it all…

And it was then I started talking to Gil about seeing him in person—a year too late, I know, but I was trying… but you would be surprised how much that man worked. We hardly had a phone conversation together that didn't end with the lab calling him, and him apologizing over and over, but still taking it.

He worked all the holidays, all the weekends… and I didn't push the issue. I told myself it was because I didn't want to let him know why, before we were in person, because he would demand answers, and then I would lie… I would lie and it would be even harder for me to tell him the truth, once I had done that. In truth, I didn't push it because, each and every time, I was relieved to be able to wait just a little longer…

And my motives, for that, were not only cowardly… which made me feel worse.

Certainly, there was a great part of me that was simply afraid of his reaction… but greater than that, was a motive I would not even openly admit to myself. I had been falling in love with him, deeper and more desperately with each conversation and each laugh and each eloquently-quoted dead philosopher… and I did not want that to end. I did not want him to hate me… to be so angry that he would never speak to me, ever again…

To lose him, after already losing Halle… it felt like it was just too much. Like I would suffocate under the weight of so much grief—of so many dreams that I had thrown out the window because I had simply not been strong enough to endure… I had not been good enough, to deserve either of them…

I was weak. But I still wanted him. Even if I didn't deserve him. Even if, each time, I believed it was only for just one more day...

And so I said nothing.


	7. Las Vegas

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Sooo, hopefully I'll have chapter eight up by late afternoon today. But, I have some errands to run, so I have to post just this one now. Reviews are loved! :)

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Chapter Seven: Las Vegas

Holly Gribbs had just been killed while on a scene, and I had been promoted to Night Shift Supervisor. The last thing I wanted was to have internal affairs come in and interfere in our investigation, question Warrick, and possibly suspend him—if he had done something wrong, we would deal with it… I would even fire him if I had to… but I wanted it to truly be something he deserved, not internal affairs making him a scapegoat.

I don't know why the first person I thought of was Sara, but she was.

I wasn't even sure how to ask her—I had a very strange relationship with Sara. Nine years previously we'd made love in my hotel room, never expecting to see each other again. I had flown home and tried very, very hard to forget her. That night, logically, had seemed like a lapse in judgment. She was a student, I was a guest lecturer—more or less a teacher—and she was fifteen years my junior. Yet I could not get her face—that night—her body—the absolute beauty our lovemaking had been… out of my mind.

She was inescapable, and yet almost unattainable. Unattainable because, idiot that I was, I'd washed her phone number in my jacket pocket. She had never even told me her last name… the paper with the phone number had said "Sara from Boston—row five, seat eleven; brown hair, brown eyes; best sex of your life!"

...Which wasn't untrue.

I even tried to get her information from the university—and was asked whether I had any idea how many Saras a school their size had enrolled. I tried to narrow it down, but it had been an intro level forensics class. There were probably still fifty or more Saras, and she wasn't about to give me personal information about students. I had hoped that she could call Sara and give her my number… but I couldn't ask this woman to call fifty random women and ascertain which one I'd slept with.

And then she called me. I heard the phone ringing, but I'd never given her my number and I was unlisted… so I had assumed it was impossible for her to call me. I'd even resigned myself to the idea that I would never hear from her again, though she featured in my dreams far too often and far too explicitly for me to believe I was truly resigned…

I yelled for Catherine to answer it for me—I'd knocked the mold of ballistics gel we were setting, and if I didn't fix it, it would be hours longer before we could even use the mold… not to mention a huge mess. It was already starting to drip out, onto the floor of my office. I knew there was a reason I'd never done this in here before…

And I can hear her talking… hear her voice change slightly, like she's curious, and I hear the phone call end. At which point she comes to me, the smirk on her face widening when she sees the green colored smears across my arms and forehead.

"Who was it?"

She grins, and her response comes in a voice half-husky and seductive, half-teasing and surprised. "It was uh… 'Sara from Boston.' She says to tell you that 'it's important.'"

By the tone of her voice, I can tell she's guessed what my relationship with Sara is, and finds it humorous. I try to keep my face blank, but I'm excited that she's called me, and she laughs at the look on my face. But almost as soon as I realize my excitement, I also realize a problem. "Did she uh… leave a number?"

Catherine balks, looking surprised. "Well, uh… no. She didn't. …I'm sure she'll realize she didn't leave you one and call back."

I groan. She had left me one. I was just a complete idiot.

She called again, before I'd come in for the day—no number, again. At which point I moved through the crime lab, informing anyone who worked within ten feet of a phone to take numbers from people when they took messages, even if the caller thought the person they were trying to reach would have their number. I got a lot of strange looks, and even a glare from Ecklie, but I didn't care. It was _Sara._

But she didn't call me again. And I went back to trying to be resigned. In time, I actually was… years passed, things changed, and I came to terms with my loss, although I never stopped having the dreams about her. True, over time they became the haunting of every few months rather than almost nightly, but they persisted.

And it was a full seven years before I saw her again—sitting in one of my lectures, beautiful as ever, our eyes meeting with as much electricity and heat as the very first time. I wondered vaguely—half-hysterically—if I would always be the teacher to her student, but the realization came fast and hard that I didn't care. She practically ran from the room when I finished my lecture, and though it was completely unlike me, I chased her.

Our conversation was strange—I almost wondered if there wasn't something going on in her personal life that I didn't know about… maybe a relative was sick, or something. She even had tears in her eyes when she walked away from me… but she had told me her last name, and that she now lived in the San Francisco area. I had told her I would look her up, and she had nodded.

So I did. The first conversation was… even stranger. I was pretty sure she was crying. I was half relieved when I was called into work, and then… the following conversations got easier. They were light, and happy, and she made me laugh. I dreamed of her more and more often now, and they stopped being only sex dreams. Not that those didn't come too, but… I often found myself dreaming about having coffee with her. Dreaming that she was a CSI on my team in Vegas. Dreaming about taking her on a roller coaster marathon with me. Dreaming about waking up with her.

And though the dreams were difficult for me, I found myself almost looking forward to them. She wanted us to meet in person again, and I tried desperately to get some time off, but the lab was busier than ever. In truth, we really needed more CSIs on staff. The sex dreams came back with a vengeance after that request, and so when she said we absolutely had to see each other, I bought her a plane ticket to come to Vegas. I would still have to work nights, but even seeing her half-days would be better than not at all.

Of course, there was a serial rapist. _Of course._ I called her the day she was supposed to fly in, and told her I probably wouldn't be home… and I wasn't. I probably caught a half hour nap on a couch in the lab that whole long weekend. But we caught the guy—we caught him, and that made it worth it. Almost. Maybe. ...Not really.

For a while she stopped asking, and then near the end of February 2000, she started up with fervency again. I wondered if, in the meantime, she had had a boyfriend… and that that was why her requests had dwindled. This made me nervous… hesitant… almost afraid. I made a few excuses, at first, but I got over it… By the time I had though, she had stopped asking again.

And then, Holly Gribbs died. I could not believe one of my team had been killed at a scene. How could that happen? But I didn't want IA involved…

And I called Sara. I called her in to investigate Warrick. I called her in because I could not stand the idea of being away from her anymore. I called her because I was falling in love with her.


	8. Scar

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: Wow! I'm faster than I thought! I know this is short, but hopefully this one and the last one constitute a full update, yes? Yes!

Please review! Thank you!

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Chapter Eight:

Sara came to Vegas, and though I lived in a desert, I felt like she had brought the sun with her. Before she came, I had been facing several dark prospects—and like the sun, she brought light and comfort and warmth. Maybe the prospects were still dark, but I didn't feel the shadows creeping around me anymore.

Though I knew, for her investigation's sake, that I shouldn't be taking her out to dinner… but I did, the first night she was back. I couldn't stop smiling in her presence, and her silly, cynical humor made me laugh more than I had remembered laughing with another person in years… even more than over the phone, as if her mere proximity made them tumble out from my mouth, inexplicably.

I drove her back to her hotel, and without even thinking about it, I walked her to her door. When I had asked her to come to Vegas before, we had expected that she would stay in my townhouse, but appearances were everything in an investigation, and she'd gotten a hotel room. …I found myself wishing fervently that she hadn't, and that I was leading her into my home instead.

We stopped in the doorway, and she pulled out her key, opened the door, and then turned to me, one hand on the handle. Her body position and stance told me that she didn't want to leave, but that she wasn't going to ask me in. …Which I was fine with. Really. _Really._

…But a goodnight kiss couldn't hurt anyone, could it? And so, without really thinking, I leaned into her and pressed my lips against hers, for the first time in nine years. The first contact was hesitant, gentle… and she froze, neither pulling away nor reciprocating. My instinct was to pull away, but I deepened the kiss just slightly, enough so that our lips were firmly in contact, rather than a whisper of closeness and no more.

And she kissed me back. She exhaled slowly, molding her lips to mine, her eyes fluttering closed, her body moving instinctually closer. I moved closer too, placing hands on either side of her face and pressing her back against the door to her room… which was still open. We both tumbled back through it, falling hard on the floor of her room.

She had screamed when we fell, but now peals of laughter drifted from her place on the floor beside me, and I couldn't help laughing myself. God but she was beautiful.

I sat up on an elbow, facing her, the door swinging shut as soon as I had moved my legs out of its path. I gazed down at her—face flushed with laughter, dark curls flung back carelessly on the over-patterned carpet, the pink tank top she'd arrived in pushed up just slightly, revealing an inch or so of the creamy skin on her stomach…

I couldn't help it—I placed my fingertips to that skin, trailing them over it slowly, reveling in the softness I found there and the deepness of the expression in her eyes at the contact. She looked at me, in that moment, with a heavy and needy desire in those eyes, and I was about to bend down and capture her lips again—capture her whole self, again, if she would let me… when my fingers felt a slight disruption in the silky smoothness of her bared midriff.

A scar.

In my line of work, you get pretty good at recognizing the surgeries different scars imply. Considering how low my fingers were on her abdomen… considering the length and position of the scar… it was from a C-section.

Sara had had a baby.

How was this something I didn't know?

She hadn't had that scar—I was certain—nine years ago.

Was she a mother right now…? With a baby in San Francisco and a father in the picture?

No, no… she'd have told me. Surely…

But by now she had seen the question in my eyes, and realized where my fingertips had stopped their trek. Fear filled her eyes, and she sat up quickly, tugging her shirt down and backing away from me. I tried to speak, to apologize, to ask the question I didn't understand… could not process…

But she beat me to it.

"I, uh… I'm really tired, Grissom." Grissom? She'd always called me Gil… Had she already picked up the nickname from the lap, after only a day…? "I'll… see you tomorrow."

And that was it. We weren't talking about it. We were pretending that this, between us, this night… hadn't happened.

I left, numbly, confused, and hurt, though I knew I had no right. We hadn't been in contact for seven years… I could hardly be hurt that she'd taken a lover, and if she'd gotten pregnant… well, I just hoped that he'd been supportive. She obviously didn't still have a baby… she'd have told me about it. I was certain of that.

Which meant she had lost the baby, in one capacity or another… I could understand not wanting to discuss something like that. I really could.

I just hoped, someday, that she would change her mind.

The next few days she was there took what little hope I had of that away. She was distant, and distracted, and professional. Too professional. No teasing words or playful smiles. And when the time came for her to leave, I could not stand the thought of the sunlight that had come into my live when she came to Vegas going away again. I couldn't go back to the clouds and the shadows and the darkness.

And if she couldn't be mine… didn't want to be, then there was no reason why we couldn't work together. I just wanted to keep her close. Even if I couldn't be with her, I could see her every day. That was better than nothing. It was… something, at least.

So I asked her to stay, and fill Holly Gribbs' position. She looked doubtful, and asked for some time to think about it. …Yet when days passed and I finally had to ask her again, or hire someone else, she looked every bit as undecided as the first time I asked. …And then she said yes. It fell from those gorgeous lips too quickly, and the look of surprise on her face told me that she hadn't even meant to agree.

I didn't want to, but I gave her an out. I asked if she was sure… and though her eyes betrayed the conflict she was feeling, her lips were set when she nodded.

"I'm sure. …When do you want me to start?"


	9. Crime Scene

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Don't hate me for this chapter! Mwahaha! ...hehe. So, uh... the faster I get reviews, the faster I'll post the next chapter... :)

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Chapter Nine: Crime Scene

I don't know why I agreed to move to Vegas. Why I agreed to uproot my entire life to work at a lab where I didn't know anyone, with a man I loved and lied to with every breath I took.

I told those who asked me that it was a better lab, and it was. Ranked second in the country. I told them I had liked the team, when I was there, and I did. I argued that it was a privilege to work under one of the greatest forensic minds in the county, and it was.

I didn't move for any of those reasons though. I moved because the man I loved asked me, and I could deny him nothing. …Nothing except the truth, it seemed.

We took on a sort of strange, strained friendship. When things were going good, we talked and joked at work, and would occasionally get breakfast after shift. We didn't talk about the night he found my scar, and we didn't talk about the dramatic shift to platonic that our relationship had taken… because there had been no doubt that our interest in each other had been romantic.

But now there was doubt.

He flirted with the women who came to the lab, whether for specific cases or simply the ones who worked there. He flirted with the lab techs, he confided in the coroner, he took out the forensic artist who had been called in to reconstruct a face. He even flirted with me, which I would go back and forth between returning and spurning. …Eventually, he stopped.

And that was how it was when things were bad—proximity in the lab brought with it an unbearable sexual tension and a tight, confusing sort of anger. The kind of anger you feel when you're overtired, or emotional, or on your period—the kind that doesn't make sense, but seethes beneath the surface anyway, defying logic and threatening to snap at any moment. And sometimes it did.

Not screaming, but snide remarks… harsh responses to simple questions… thoughtless words. We were both guilty of it, and both too proud to admit that it hurt us.

It kept up like this, an unbearable and inescapable prison we held ourselves in, but still bitter sweet… still reflective of more amorous times and interactions… until the following summer.

I'd been in Vegas almost a year, and I hadn't told him anything about our Halle… I had gotten the usual picture in February—she was as beautiful as ever. Nine years old. I could hardly believe it. When I received it, I had the overwhelming urge to run with it to his office and show him undeniable proof that the two of us, together, were beautiful… amazing, wonderful, earth-shatteringly lovely.

I put it in another frame, to match the row of framed Halle pictures I had, and I cried as I always did. That night at work was another of our bad nights. I snapped at him, a lot. And by the end of the night, he looked more than glad to be rid of me. I didn't enjoy that reality, but I understood it. And despite sincerely wanting to be open with him… to have the happy camaraderie back, even if it wasn't what I truly wanted from him, I couldn't stop.

Up until that fateful summer night, things were rough between us. And they only got worse.

But again, as always, I get ahead of myself when I talk about this man. Once again, I'll start at the beginning. It was a Tuesday night in early June, and Tuesdays were usually slow. I had arrived late, because I had noticed that if I didn't have much time to talk to Grissom at the beginning of shift, I was far less likely to snap at him. This tactic had signaled a slight ease in the tension between us, and I was determined to keep it up.

Walking leisurely into the break room, I was greeted by the guys happily and off-handedly by Catherine. She was on the phone, though, so this was a better than average response, considering. I took a seat by Nick, who had been the most redeeming aspect of my move. I had needed a friend, more than anything, and he missed his family, so we were kind of a natural pair. If I got breakfast after shift now, it was with Nick, and he was about the only person I spent time with outside of the lab anymore.

He smiles at me, engrossed in his video game with Warrick. I realize with slight trepidation that this means I'm the only non-distracted person in the room. The only person who will be able to lock eyes with Grissom before he calls attention to the group… and of course I would… what person, doing nothing but waiting, didn't look up when someone new entered the room? I glanced around frantically for a magazine, and finally came up with an old forensics one I had read cover to cover several times already.

It served its purpose though, and his attention didn't have to fall directly on me. I even manage to smile at him, as he says something about everyone doubling up, because it's such a slow night. He returns it, with an air of surprise, and my heart flutters. Of course.

He gives Catherine, Nick, and Warrick a rape—three girls, roommates, all tied down and raped and beaten in their home. Catherine was to go to the hospital and process the victims, Nick and Warrick were going to the scene. Nick was supposed to be on call—ready to come to the other scene if we needed the help.

We. Because Grissom had put us together on a case for the first time in months. I grinned, anticipating the night before us. Our case was a double murder—a couple had rented a vacation home and been murdered during a robbery.

I was practically bouncing with excitement to work with Grissom, but I contained it, with difficulty. The last thing I needed was him asking why I was in such a good mood. We were on our way to a double murder. I needed to keep that in mind.

It was a nice vacation home—based on inflated prices in Vegas during the summer, I'd say the couple was upper-middle class to wealthy… one step in the door told me the same thing. It was very nice, excluding the blood. There was a lot of it. Even though there were no bodies in the front room, I was fairly certain that one of them had been killed right here, if not both of them.

Grissom glanced around, and then at me. "Why don't you process this room, and I'll go find the bodies?"

I nod, slowly, thinking that they can hardly be far, and start to take overalls. I hear, distantly, Grissom's kit being set down, as I start to place markers next to each area of blood drops and smears and spatter. It's really bad. Hadn't Grissom said this was originally a robbery? …How did a nonviolent crime escalate so dramatically… so quickly… so senselessly?

"Sara…?" Grissom calls from the next room. There's something strange in his voice that I can't identify. I work my way around the blood, to not disturb any evidence, and move through into the kitchen, where the body of a man and a woman are lying, face down, on the floor. I only spare them a quick glance, turning my gaze to Grissom instead.

"Yes?"

"…Why is your name and address written on this piece of paper here?"

My eyes narrow in confusion. "What?"

He points to a crumpled and creased piece of notebook paper containing my name and my current address. In Erika's neat handwriting.

I gasp out loud, looking back to the bodies frantically. I don't have to see their faces; I knew exactly who they were. But I ask, anyway, wanting to be wrong.

"Uh… IDs on the vics?"

He shakes his head. "David isn't here yet. Can't touch the bodies to see if they're carrying IDs… I haven't found a purse yet."

I shake my head. Erika didn't carry purses. She hated them. I swallow convulsively.

"The scene's been cleared?"

He nods. "Of course, Sara… what's… what's going on here?"

"Are you sure there's no… no one else? No other…" I can't bring myself to say the word 'bodies' when thinking of my angel. "…anyone?"

His eyes narrow. "No, Sara. There's some toys in the living room back here, which made me think they had a child with them, but the officers assured me that there was no one else here. I figured the toys were probably in the house, as a courtesy for guests with children… Sara, please, what's… what's going on?"

I shake my head, turning from him and running back through the house, barely avoiding slipping in all the blood in the front room and taking off up the stairs. She has to be here. She just has to be.


	10. Conflict of Interest

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: Yay! Let me know what you think...? :)

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Chapter Ten: Conflict of Interest

"Sara!" he yells, and I can hear him moving behind me, much more slowly, but I can't slow down and I can't stop. I don't care about protocol, or preserving the scene, I care about my baby, _my baby. _And without regard to the child's father coming after me, I start to shout through the house.

"Halle? Halle Mae! Sweetheart, are you here? Come out… It's okay now, come out!"

The first bedroom I come to is a child's and I rip it apart—she's not under the bed, or in the closet. She isn't in the big toy box in the corner, or even behind the door. As I run to the next room, Grissom is rounding the top of the stairs.

"Sara! Sara, what's going on?"

His voice fades slightly as I enter the next room—it looks like a guest room, unoccupied. I look under the bed again, dig through the closet, even looking at the shelves high up. Grissom appears in the doorway just as I'm attempting to run out, and he catches my upper arm.

"Stop Sara! Tell me who Halle is!"

Tears are streaming down my face, and my breath is coming fast and shallow, like I can't fill up my lungs. "My _baby_. My baby, my baby Halle. Halle!" I should again, breaking from his grip and running to the hall bathroom.

She isn't under the sink, or in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. She isn't in the linen closet, or even in the hamper in the corner.

Moving even faster, I run into the next bedroom while Grissom watches me in alarm. Another room with a double bed—but with a wardrobe rather than a closet. I dig through that, look under the bed, and even in the big dresser drawers, though I doubt they're big enough to fit a nine year old.

The last door in the hallway is the master bedroom.

She's not under the bed, or in either of the closets, or behind the door. She isn't under the sink in the master bathroom, or the shower, or the linen closet, and I want to fall to pieces in exasperation and frustration and almost, uncontainable despair.

Grissom appears in the doorway of the bathroom. "Sara…"

My head snaps to him. Oh god. He's just lost his baby too, and he doesn't even know he has one yet. …How had I let it go on so long? How had I not told him on the very first day I saw him again…?

"Sara, honey, listen to me." I struggle to focus my gaze on him. His eyes are Halle's eyes. Oh god, my Halle. "Is there a child missing…? If… If there is, we need to put out an Amber alert. We need to work on finding her."

I nod, numbly, completely unaware of the tears pouring down my cheeks. He takes my hand, gently, pulling his phone out of his pocket as we move down the stairs. At which point I realize I haven't searched the whole house. I break from his grip and run down ahead of him, rushing through every room and, I'm certain, destroying the scene, but I have a hard time rationalizing why that is important. I just need to find her.

Distantly, I hear him calling Nick to come process the scene, and requesting Brass meet us at the lab in twenty minutes, but I know it won't be necessary. I'm going to find her.

Yet the downstairs has fewer hiding places than the upstairs—the dining room requires only a sweeping gaze, and the living room is the same. After digging through a hall closet and completely tearing the kitchen apart, it becomes apparent that she isn't here. She isn't anywhere.

And then Grissom comes to me, takes my hand again, and leads me out, around the blood pools that by some miracle have yet to be disturbed, and out to the Denali we'd driven over in. He puts me in the passenger seat, speaks quickly to the officers at the scene, informing them of Nick's imminent arrival, and then he slides into the driver's seat.

I expect him to throw questions at me, but instead we drive in silence. The only thing he says is, "Do you have a recent picture of the girl…? and at my nod, he drives towards my apartment instead of the lab.

He walks with me, inside, and takes the keys from me when my trembling fingers can't hold them steady enough to open the door, and I collect my ten Halle photographs, all framed, silently, walking out without bothering to lock it behind me. He does, however, and follows me back to the Denali, and drives us to the lab in silence.

We walk, side by side, to Brass' office, taking the seats across the desk from him.

"We need to issue an Amber alert on a young girl, whose… parents have been killed. She wasn't at the scene." The word parents came with a questioning inflection and a sideways glance at me.

Brass immediately is ready to write, and when Grissom turns to look at me, he follows suit. I draw in a deep, steadying breath, pulling the most recent picture frame from the pile and passing it to Brass.

"Her name is Halle Mae Stevens. Her parents are Tom and Erika. The last time I was in contact with them was this past February. They live in Boston. He's an attorney, she writes children's books. I don't know any of their friends or relatives, and I don't know if they'd have any enemies.

"Halle is nine years old, reddish brown hair, blue eyes, height… maybe four and a half feet? She's tall for her age, Erika said she was taller than all her friends… maybe five feet? God, I don't know…"

Grissom's eyes are narrowed, but he doesn't speak. Brass clears his throat. "Your, uh, relationship… to the girl?"

I cringe, but it isn't important now. Only she matters. "I'm her biological mother. I gave her up for adoption in 1992. Tom and Erika have sent me a picture, on her birthday, every year."

Brass nods. "Gil, as soon as you have some information about a suspect we can update the alert. In the meantime, I want her picture all over the news as soon as possible. …Don't worry, Sara, we'll find her."

I nod numbly, trembling again. Grissom looks at me intently, while Brass repeats Halle's pertinent information into the telephone. I don't know if he's put anything together yet, but with that brain of his, I don't know how he couldn't at least suspect. When he doesn't speak, I take initiative.

"Gris, we need to go back to the scene. There's no way Nicky can process quickly enough to—"

"Sara, you can't work this case. I… I don't think you can work any case, the state you're in. We'll call in some people from swing shift… day shift, even, okay…? I'll oversee the crime scene myself."

I look deeply into his eyes, Halle's eyes, and sigh. This isn't the way he should find out. This isn't the circumstances under which I wanted to tell him. He seems to misinterpret my gaze, however, and answers a question I hadn't asked.

"It's a conflict of interest, Sara. I'm sorry. You have to be hands-off."

I shake my head, looking down into my lap. "No, it's not that… Gil, uh…" I can almost hear his head snap to fiercer attention. I hadn't called him Gil since the night in my hotel room. "…you can't work the scene either."

His eyes narrow, and I watch as question and answer form behind them, chaotically, trying to decipher my meaning, trying to see if I could possibly mean anything but what he thinks I mean. I sigh, and try to spell it out further.

"You also have a… conflict of interest."


	11. Missing

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Okay, last update before bed, and probably until tomorrow night. Please review! It encourages faster posting, and this isn't such a cliff-hanger, so that makes me nice. Nice writers get more reviews. Yes?

Hehe.

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Chapter Eleven: Missing

My world was spinning out of control. The thought had occurred to me, granted, when she had said she gave up her baby in 1992… we had been together in May 1991. Doing a little bit of frantic math in my head and that would put our baby's birth in… February. Hadn't she just said something about being in contact with them last February…? But that didn't mean… There was no way that Sara would not have told me.

Besides, she could have given up… Halle… in December of '92. Which would mean she'd conceived ten months after we were together. …Something like that, surely, was more likely. I'd touched the scar that was evidence of her motherhood. Surely, in that moment, she would have told me I had a daughter?

So I was certain… well, almost certain… that I couldn't be the father. But I kept looking at her… kept watching her, looking for some indication, some morsel of truth in her words. Some detail which would prove or disprove…

Yet, hadn't she told Catherine it was important, when she called, all those years ago…? Hadn't she told him herself that she'd told Ecklie it was 'urgent'…?

And then she said the words. I had a conflict of interest too. The words hit me like a slap across the face. I thought I had prepared myself for the possibility of Halle being mine, and yet, how could I prepare for such a thing?

I found myself drawing in shallow breaths—found black spots swimming in front of my eyes—found the room spinning around me. And then I found myself, completely disoriented, staring up at Brass' ceiling. I found myself on the floor. I found Sara staring down at me, fear and tears in her eyes, and guilt, too.

I sat up slowly, not allowing myself to think about the nine year old I had apparently fathered a decade ago. First I needed to think about keeping the room still. I needed to think about not vomiting from the vertigo that had overtaken me. I needed to think.

"Can I see her?"

The words came from my mouth, unbidden. I had not even realized I wanted to see her, but I did. I found it a more ever-present need than breathing. I found it absolutely necessary. Life-and-death.

Sara stood, moved over to the desk, and brought the stack of picture frames to me. She helped me lean back against a wall, and sat next to me, passing me the picture she had passed to Brass. A smiling, nine-year-old girl stood, all smiles, an arm around another girl. But I didn't have to ask which was ours.

Not only did I have Sara's description of the girl in my head, leading me to look at the girl with auburn hair rather than the blonde, I would have known her anywhere. She had the same color hair as my mother, and my father's nose… she had my eyes, my dimples, my lips… Sara's teeth, the same shape of Sara's face, Sara's curls, Sara's cheekbones. She was beautiful.

She was in a bedroom decorated with butterflies. My stomach did a strange sort of flip at the irony of such a thing. Had she chosen the theme herself? Did she like butterflies… bugs… science? Was she artistic, like my mother? Poetic, like my father? Stubborn and free-spirited, like her mother?

Her mother. Sara had not told me I was a father. She had… given away our child… without even telling me. She had… seen me, every day, for more than a year now…talked to me on the phone, nearly every day, for two years before that… and said nothing. Nothing.

Distantly, I understand that Brass wants the picture I'm holding to put on the news, and I surrender it silently, turning my gaze on Sara. …How could she?

She avoids my gaze, passing me instead another framed picture. A sonogram. A tiny figure, hardly visible. She had framed it, and kept it, all this time… she had loved Halle, even if she hadn't kept her. The sentiment touches me, but I can't remove my anger entirely. It's taking all I have to contain it.

And slowly, she passes me pictures, one by one, marking the years of our daughter's life. I watched as, before my eyes, she went from a chubby-cheeked, cake-covered, blonde baby to a beautiful little girl, with the reddish brown curls I had already fallen in love with. I all but cried at the sweetness of child holding up a valentine's heart for Sara, and grinned goofily at each themed cake and cheesy smile.

Sara softly filled in details—she was this age, they said they called her their little chameleon, because of the rapidly changing hair colors, she had been sick on this birthday, she had said this about her cake this year…

I was torn between embracing Sara—crying with her, because even as I fell in love with the little girl in the pictures, I was fully aware that I might never meet her or know her or have anything but these pictures—and screaming at her, because all the time I had lost, all the moments and the memories… I had lost because of her. I had never even known I had endured such an extreme loss, all these years… all this time she could have _told_ me.

"Gil…" She begins, but I hold up a hand, knowing that I will be less than kind if we discuss it now, and she can't handle it right now… _I_ can't handle it right now.

"Sara. We'll… we'll discuss it after we find her. Right now we just… we have to find her."

She looks afraid, but she nods with tear-filled eyes, and slides her hand into mine. And despite my anger, I squeeze it, taking comfort in our shared grief. We were both parents who had never parented, and yet we felt our baby's loss acutely, desperately, agonizingly.

Whoever said you couldn't miss what you'd never had didn't know what the hell they were talking about. I had never had a daughter, and yet I missed her so severely that the pain was intense, and physical, and real, and ever-present.

Halle.

Halle Mae.

Halle Mae Stevens?

No.

Halle Mae Grissom.


	12. Bad Men

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Please review! Also, this was hastily proof-read, I have limited internet, and I just wanted to get it up while I could. Let me know what you think!

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Chapter Twelve: Bad Men.

I was sitting on the floor of a car. My mommy always said you had to sit in a seat, with your seatbelt on, but the bad men said I couldn't. The mean one tried to make me climb in the trunk—my daddy said never to play in those—but the other one, the nicer one, told him that I would stay on the floor. He said I'd be a good girl. I didn't want to be his good girl, but I didn't want to be put in the trunk, so I was sitting. The nicer one—he wasn't really nice. He still hurt my mom, but he was better than the mean man. He was scary.

I had been sleeping—I heard my mom screaming, and my dad yelling, and lots of banging… I waited, and when I didn't hear them anymore, I crept out of bed and snuck downstairs to see what was going on. I tried to be very quiet, because they got mad if I got out of bed too many times, and told me I needed to put my listening ears on.

I hated that.

But when I got to the top of the stairs, I saw two men I didn't know, and my mommy was on the floor by the door. It looked like there was blood on the ground, and that was scary. I wanted to run away, from the bad men, but what if my mommy was hurt? So I called softly—hoping she would hear me and they wouldn't—"Mommy?"

But only the men looked up at me. I turned and ran back up the stairs, climbing into my closet, behind a big extra blanket. I was usually really good at hide and seek, and I hoped the men wouldn't find me. I heard them yelling downstairs, but I don't know what they were saying, and then I heard footsteps on the stairs.

I tried very hard not to breathe, when he came in my room, but I couldn't hold my breath very long. Maybe that's why he found me. It was the nicer one, and he was trying to smile at me, but he looked funny too. Like he didn't want to look at me. When he reached out and wiped tears off my face, I shivered. I didn't like him touching me.

"Hey sweetheart, why don't you come out? We're going to go for a little car ride…"

I shake my head. "I'm not supposed to go with strangers."

He looked at his shoes, and then back at me. "We're not strangers. We're friends of your Mommy and Daddy, okay honey? And they just got hurt, and they need to stay here to get better. But you have to come with us, so they can get better, okay?"

I shake my head. "No. You're not a friend, you're a stranger."

He tries to argue. "No, honey, I'm—"

"What's the safe word?"

He looks confused. "Safe word?"

See. I knew he was a stranger—my mommy said never believe anybody who didn't know our safe word—butterfly. He was a bad man.

And he looked mad now. He made an angry face, and pulled me out of the closet, even though I was kicking him and screaming as loud as I could, and he took me downstairs and out the front door. My mommy wasn't there anymore. I yelled for her, wondering if the other man was hurting her, but he was outside by the car.

He opened the trunk, and they fought again. And that's when I sat on the floor in the backseat. I didn't get up, because the mean one said he'd kill me if I did.

I listened to them—they were fighting again. They needed to learn to use nice words, like my teacher says. Mostly they fought about me, and where to leave me—the mean one kept saying, "Just find an abandoned rest stop. Someone will find her."

And then the nicer one would yell some more, about how bad people could find me there, and they should have just killed me if they were going to leave me with people like that. I figured that if a bad man was worried about them, they must be _really _bad. That was even scarier. If they tried to push me out of the car, I would fight. I was safer with them than with… badder men. 'Worse men,' I heard my mommy say in my head. I nodded to myself. Worse men.

But when it started to get light outside, they argued more. The mean one, who was driving, pulled out a gun and shot the nicer one, and I screamed and screamed, but it didn't matter. We were at one of those places the nicer one was worried about, and nobody was here. He kicked the nicer man's body out of the car and then dragged me out too.

I was cold, in my nightgown, and the ground hurt my bare feet. I kicked him, and tried to run to get back in the car. He threw me on the ground, and kicked me, and I felt like I couldn't breathe for a long time. I cried and cried, and he drove away. I shivered, looking around me. There were cars on the road, but they were going really fast—and there were no buildings around, except the one we were outside of. I didn't think the road was safe.

I looked at the nicer man, who was covered in blood, but he wasn't moving. I thought I should make sure he was really dead, but I didn't know how… when I finally got to my feet—my tummy really hurt from when he kicked me—I nudged the man with my toe. He didn't move.

I shivered, and decided I would go in the building, and hide in the potty. If someone came, I could see if they seemed nice, like a mommy or daddy, or mean… like that bad people would be afraid of. My feet hurt, bad, but it was a little warmer inside. I went into the girls bathroom, and locked myself in a stall. It just felt safer. I sat on the potty with my feet pulled up, so no one could see me if they came in, and I cried some more.

I just hoped my mommy and daddy would find me here. I just hoped they were okay…


	13. Found

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: Sorry it's so short. I'll have the next chapter up by tonight, as long as my internet stays functional...which is hit or miss. :) Please review! It makes me all kinds of happy!

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Chapter Thirteen: Found

I fell asleep, on the toilet, and woke up when my foot slipped into the water. My mommy told me there were yicky germs in the potty, so I got up and went and washed my foot in the sink. I was sitting there when I heard people talking, and so I ran back to the stall and locked it, slipping from my wet foot and falling. I barely had time to climb onto the seat before the door opened. I looked at the windows—it was light out. Maybe it wasn't a bad person.

I didn't try to hold my breath this time, but I was very quiet and peaked out through the cracks—it was an older lady, older than my mommy. Maybe she was someone's grandma. Grandmas were nice… and girls weren't as scary as boys. She stopped in front of the mirror and was pulling things out of her purse—make up. My mommy would let me wear her old make up when I played dress up.

The door opened again, and I jumped—it was a man, but he didn't come in, he just stuck his head in. He was old too.

"Hon?" She turned to look at him. "I think we need to call the police… there's some blood in the parking lot. The radio is going crazy about some little girl missing, and if it's related, well… we don't want to be the people who thought it was nothing."

She nods. "Alright, Frank, I'll be out in a minute." The door closed and she put her make up away, turning to go into a stall. I was scared, but she seemed nice… and the grandpa had talked about a missing girl. That was probably me. I bet my mommy and daddy were so scared looking for me.

I opened the door and the woman yelled like she was afraid of me, and I jumped. "I'm sorry, ma'am," my mommy said you always call adults sir or ma'am, except strangers. You don't talk to strangers. "I just… some strangers got me, last night, and left me here… I… I miss my mommy and daddy!"

I tried so hard not to cry, but I was cold and I hurt all over and my feet had owies, and my pretty nightgown was messy and I missed my mommy and daddy and I was so _tired. _

She didn't say anything, and I worried she had left me, but when I looked up she was looking at me, and her eyes seemed sad.

"Oh, honey, it's okay now. Come here. My names Maggie and I have a granddaughter just about your age…" I sniffled and wiped my tears and ran to her, even though I didn't know her. She gave me a big hug and when I pulled away, she looked like she wanted to cry as much as I did. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Halle Mae Stevens. 2614 E Merrifield Avenue, Boston, Massa… Mass-achoo-sets."

She smiled at me. "That's very good that you remember all that. Why don't you come out to the car with me, Halle, so you can warm up, and we'll call the police? I bet they can bring you home, okay?"

I nodded. She was nice, and I _was_ cold. She held my hand and walked me outside and put me in the car with the heat turned up. She even gave me her jacket to put over my cold legs and toes, and then she went to find her husband. I think he was going potty in the boy's room.

They both came back out and sat in the front, and her husband said hi to me and pulled his phone out. He only pushed three buttons, and I knew it was 911. My teacher told me all about calling 911 for help. If I'd had a phone when the bad men took me, I'd have called it too.

"Yes, my name is Frank Banicko, my wife and I just stopped at a rest area just outside of Henderson, off of… what highway is this, Maggie?" She said some numbers, and he repeated them into the phone. I don't remember what they were though. "Anyway, there was a little girl here, in the ladies room, all alone. She says her name is…" Maggie said my name, and he repeated it again. "Halle Mae Stevens. From Boston."

I smiled. My mommy and daddy were gonna be here any minute to come get me, and then maybe we'd go get pancakes. I loved pancakes, especially when mommy worked late and daddy made them for supper. He'd always say "Shh! Don't tell your mom, it'll be our secret!" He always made them with chocolate chips too. My tummy growled. I couldn't wait for the pancakes…

He hung up the phone and turned to look at me. "They're on their way, honey, okay? …Are you okay? Do you have any boo-boos?"

I smiled at that too. He must thing I'm younger than I am, or else his grandkids are younger than me. Only _babies_ got boo-boos. "My feet have lotsa owies, sir, but I'm okay. My mommy and daddy are gonna buy me pancakes when they come get me!"

He chuckled softly. "I hope so, kiddo. I hope so."


	14. Suspect

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: Thank you all for all the amazing reviews! Hope you like the next chapter! ...Chapter 15 should be exciting, yes? Hopefully I won't make you wait _too_ long...

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Chapter Fourteen: Suspect

We were huddled in the break room when Brass came practically running down the hallways towards us. A single look to Gil and we were both on our feet, running to the doorway to meet him, desperate for news. He looked happy, and I felt my whole heart swell—he wouldn't look happy unless there was truly good news. He wouldn't do that to me.

"We've got her!" He called, still fifteen feet from us, and I felt the greatest feeling of relief and joy I'd ever experienced in my entire life. I whirled to Grissom and wrapped my arms around him, tears falling freely from my eyes, and he embraced me just as tightly. Whether he was mad at me or not, we were both parents in this moment, given the most phenomenal news in the world. Anything smaller could not possibly make a difference right now.

As I pull from Grissom, I can't help but turn to Jim, who has finally reached us, and wrap my arms around him too. "Oh, god, Jim, thank you. Thank you so much. You… you have no idea."

He squeezes me tightly too. "I've got an idea, believe me… we're having her taken to Desert Palm, just as a precaution, there are no signs of serious injury."

"Oh! Okay, well then let's… let's go!" The look on his face stops me short. "…What's the problem?"

He looks uncomfortable, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Sara, why… why don't we go back to my office, and talk?"

I shake my head frantically, wiping impatiently at tears. "No, Jim, my… my baby… anything else can wait!"

"Sara, you're a suspect."

The words stop me dead in my tracks, and I whirl around to him in alarm. "Excuse me?"

"We… well, while we were looking for her, we were also looking into anything we could find out about her, to see if it would help us find her. You, uh… you made an agreement with her parents that you would get custody of her, if anything happened to them?"

And suddenly, I understand. "You don't… you couldn't possibly think that… that I would… Jim!"

He shakes his head, his forehead creasing. "No, Sara, of course I don't, but… but you have to admit that it's strange. A couple you gave your baby to, with an usual stipulation, comes to Las Vegas and end up dead, leaving you to the girl… it just… well, it looks suspicious."

"I… I would _never_… I loved Tom and Erika! I hand-picked them to raise her… I would never have given her up if I hadn't been willing to let them keep her!"

He looks at his feet. "No, I know that Sara, but… but you'll need to come in for questioning, and we'll process you and your apartment. Prove your innocence."

I narrowed my eyes. "You can have my clothes, take trace evidence, DNA, my finger prints should be on file, and I'll give you a key to my home… but I'm not staying to be questioned. That little girl needs someone right now—not… not strangers!"

"Sara, be reasonable, just come answer some questions and—"

"Are you charging me, Jim?"

"… What? Sara, no, I—"

"Then you can't hold me. Griss, can you get me a change of clothes from my locker—I imagine that you can't take my clothes, considering." I look at him for the first time since Jim had begun this ridiculous tangent, and his eyes are wide and uncertain. Under my gaze, however, he nods and leaves towards the locker room.

Glaring at Jim, I take Gil's case from under the table, and pull out paper bags, pulling off my jeans, shirt, shoes and socks, and slipping them each into separate bags and passing them to the detective. Shivering slightly—not from the fact that I'm nearly naked in the window-lined break room, but because it's cold all of a sudden—I snatch a swab, take a sample from my cheek, and pass this to him as well.

With great care I passed Jim a camera, stood with my eyes closed for the obligatory photographs, and then combed my hair over paper to collect any trace. I passed it to him as well, and then snatched up my purse, handing him my house key with indignant eyes. He can't meet mine, however, and keeps looking away, his ears pink.

Grissom walks briskly through the door in the next second, and balks at my exposed state, looking frantically to the windows, back to me, and then away again, as if he's walked into my bedroom and not our work break room and its his fault he's caught me in this position. I roll my eyes impatiently, taking the change of clothes and slipping into them. I'm still barefoot, but I've got to have a pair of shoes or two in my car.

"Ready Griss?" He glances awkwardly between Jim and I, and nods, waiting in the doorway and gesturing that I should precede him out. I do, but before I can make it past him, Jim speaks up again.

"I'm sorry, Sara… I'm just doing my job."

I nod, and then continue, with Grissom following behind me. I couldn't believe that I was a suspect, but it hardly fazed me. She was safe, and I just needed to get to her. That was the only thing I could focus on, just now.

I passed him my car keys as we left the lab, sitting in the passenger seat and immediately leaning over the seat to dig for a pair of shoes while he reversed out of the parking lot, taking off at top speed toward Desert Palm. I anxiously put my shoes on, and there were several minutes of silence… now that she was safe, it was harder to be alone with him. I kept worrying what he was thinking of me.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "…Were they in town to see you?"

I turn angry eyes on him—he can't possibly believe that any of this is my doing—but no, there is no accusation in his eyes. Mine soften in response, and I draw in a deep breath.

"I really don't know… they had my address so… maybe? They could have just been on vacation… we only communicated via letter, once a year…"

There's another long moment, and his voice comes softly—choked, almost. "If… if they had called or… shown up on your doorstep… if you'd gotten to meet her… would you have told me? …Let me meet her too?"

I bite my bottom lip, tears swimming in my eyes. I wanted to say yes, but the truth was I wasn't sure if I would have… and I hated myself for that, but it was true. I was a coward where this man was concerned, and I feared his disapproval more than just about anything else… except Halle. I feared for her more than anything.

But my silence seems to give him an adequate enough answer, and he sighs deeply. "Would you… ever have told me, Sara?"

I blink the tears away rapidly. "I tried… so many times…"

He shakes his head sadly. "And there was never a moment of silence between us that you could have filled with such important information?"

I bow my head, and he glances at me and then away.

The rest of the drive is completed in silence.

We were blocked from seeing her at first—a social services representative wanted to clear both with PD that we had any right to, and that we were no threat to her.

As long as they weren't charging me, they had no legitimate reason to keep me from my baby, and we were let into her hospital room after a half an hour of waiting and enough angry glares to last me a lifetime.

I knew they were just trying to protect her, and I appreciated it… I did… but not if it kept me from her a single moment longer than necessary.

She was asleep when we entered, and with heavy hearts about what would become of her safe, small, logical world when she woke up, and we had to rip it apart, we sat in a bedside vigil, mother and father, waiting on our long-lost little girl.


	15. Explanation

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: The long awaited confrontation! Let me know what you think!

* * *

Chapter 15: Explanation

When Halle woke, her soft eyelids fluttered before opening, and she looked around the room slowly, some amount of confusion filling eyes that I had known intimately my entire life—my mother's eyes… my own eyes. Sara had tensed in the seat beside me, and now she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. I reached a hand over to her without a second though, to offer strength. She took it desperately.

"…Halle?" The little girl looked to her in confusion. "My… my name is Sara. Do you know where you are, sweetheart?"

She blinked, slowly. "The hospital. Some strangers taked me—took me," she corrected herself with a slightly wrinkled brow, nodding to herself at the correction. "And then a grandma and grandpa found me where the _really_ bad people go… and then police guys and, uh… doctors… took me in the am-bu-lance," She enunciated, "and I… I was thinking about pancakes."

I can't help but smile. She's so sweet.

"Do you know where my mommy and daddy are? The grandma and grandpa said the police would take me to them, but they only took me here."

My heart drops into my stomach. Oh god. She doesn't know yet.

I glance at Sara. Tears are swimming in her eyes, and she doesn't look like she can voice the words. After a moment, I decide to help. She shouldn't have to do this alone.

"Halle?" She looks to me. "My name is Gil. Can you tell me what you remember? Tell me everything from when the bad men came until you were found…"

She looks apprehensively at me, but nods slowly, and begins to tell us the horrific details—two bad guys, her mother on the floor, worrying that she was hurt, and hiding… the bad guy not knowing the "safe word" and how he was nicer than the other one… sitting on the floor of the guy, and the fighting, and then being left at a rest area next to a dead body in the middle of the night.

I feel tears filling my eyes, and I move without thinking to my knees, taking one of her tiny hands in mine. She smiles softly, unafraid. "You look so sad, sir. Maybe you need a hug."

That does it—they fall in a current now, completely outside of my control. I sniffle. "Halle, honey… your mommy and daddy got hurt, very badly." She looks confused. There's no trace of a smile on her face anymore. I wish I could bring it back. I wish I wasn't the one taking it away. "Honey, they… the bad men, hurt them so bad that… the doctors couldn't fix them. …Sweetheart, they… they'd dead. They're going to go to heaven now, and see God. …Did your mommy and daddy tell you about God?"

I wonder if it hasn't really hit her yet—she looks like she doesn't completely understand. She nods though.

"Well, it's okay to be sad about what happened to them, but you can be a little happy, too, because they're in a really good place, and God is going to take care of them while you grow up… he's going to keep them safe from the bad guys, until you can see them again."

She sniffles. "Soon?"

I shake my head, feeling a pressure in my chest. "No, honey, not anytime soon… in a long, long time, when you're… when you're a grandma yourself… then you'll get to see them again."

Tears are finally making their way down her cheeks, but she doesn't scream or yell. She just curls up in her pillow and lets them take her over, her sobs rocking her small frame, saying "mommy" and "daddy" softly, over and over again. I feel my whole heart breaking into nothingness, and then Sara moves beside me, gently lifts the girl, and replaces herself underneath her, holding her and rocking her and letting her cry.

It doesn't seem to matter that Halle doesn't know us, doesn't know Sara… she clings to her like a life preserver in a hurricane, and the three of us weep together.

Little Halle didn't speak for a long time after she stopped crying, which took even longer still. The nurses brought in chocolate chip pancakes—she'd been talking about them when she was brought in, and they'd wanted to do something nice for the girl. She picked at the food, glancing between Sara and I curiously every once and a while. Sara still perched on the end of her bed, reluctant to allow more space between them.

Eventually, Sara swallowed again. "Halle, honey, you're uh… you're going to be released from the hospital, tonight. Do you… do you think it would be okay if you came home with…" She hesitant, her eyes flickering to me and back to our daughter. "with Gil and I?"

She bit on her bottom lip—a nervous habit of Sara's—and looked between us. "I… I want my mommy and daddy." Tears filled her eyes again, and I closed mine, feeling her pain as intensely as if it were my own—more so, even, because there was the added pain of disbelief that this could be happening to my baby…and I could do nothing.

Sara swallows hard yet again, steeling herself. "I know, honey, I know… but… you need some place safe to go. I… I know you don't know me, but… I told you my name was Sara?" The little girl nods slowly. "You made me a valentine, once… your mom said you'd read my letters."

She narrows her eyes, thinking very intently. "You're… my other-mommy-Sara?" She asks, the title coming out as one word. Sara nods, blinking furiously at tears again.

"I am. What… did your mommy and daddy tell you… about me?"

"They said… that they couldn't make a baby, but they wanted me so badly, that they asked someone else to make one for them. And a nice lady named Sara made me for them. They said she was sad to give me away, because she loved me so much, but it was the best thing anyone had ever done… because then they got to be my mommy and daddy. …I want my _real_ mommy and daddy."

Tears fall down Sara's face. I want to intervene, but I don't know what I could possibly say. She nods, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you do, honey. If… if I could bring them back to you, I would. …But when I gave you to them, I was sad… and they said if anything happened to them, I could take care of you… I promised them that I would take care of you, and keep you safe, if that happened."

When the little girl doesn't answer, Sara draws in another deep breath. "Halle, honey… um, Gil here… your mommy and daddy wouldn't have told you, about him, because I never told them who helped me make you, for them… but… but Gil helped, too. We made you together. And he wants to take care of you too, and keep you safe, for your mommy and daddy."

She looks between us and I try to smile reassuringly. She can't return it but nods slowly, curling back against her pillow and closing her eyes again.

...We could hardly expect her to warm up to us, in one day, but… it was just so hard to watch her, and want to comfort her, hug her, love her… and know that we couldn't, because she didn't know us. We were strangers too.


	16. Home

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, they have meant so much to me! Let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks!

* * *

Chapter 16: Home

Halle fell asleep shortly after, and I turned to Gil, wiping impatiently at my cheeks. "I'm… I'm sorry, Gil, I… I just wanted to keep things simple. We don't… all have to go together. I, uh… I just…"

My voice fades away, and he smiles softly. "You… have a one bedroom apartment, don't you?" I nod, slowly. "I have a spare room she can stay in, until… until we make some decisions. We can all stay there, for now."

I nod again, taking in a deep breath. "Okay. Gil… are you sure?"

He nods, his eyes moving over to Halle. "Yeah… she needs us right now. I want… I want to keep everyone together. Keep it simple, for her, at first…"

We have a moment of silence, and I draw in a deep breath. "She… doesn't have any clothes, to change into. …Maybe, maybe we should get her some things, before we take her…"

He shakes his head. "Don't you think she'll want to pick it out herself…?"

"…Do we even have something clean to bring her home in…?"

We exchange a glance, and I sigh. "I can go… I think I'll have an easier time buying girl clothing than you would. Did you… want me to meet you at the townhouse, or will you wait to take her home until I get back?"

"…I'd better wait for you. She at least knew of you, before all this…"

I nod, looking down. "Gil, I… I'm really sorry… about how this happened. …I'm really sorry I didn't tell you."

He nods too, looking down but not looking angry. I feel like, for now, that's more than enough for me. I'll take what he can give. I nod again, awkwardly, and leave the hospital room quickly, because it hurts to leave her and I was never a pull-the-band-aid-off-slowly kind of girl.

I must have been speeding, because it took me very little time to find a super store near Desert Palm, even though I didn't know the area. I grabbed a cart, even though I wasn't sure if I'd need it, and first went to the toiletries section. I picked up a small pink toothbrush and some bubblegum flavored toothpaste, a small hair brush and comb, a no-tangles children's shampoo and conditioner, and ponytails. I had some of these things at home, of course, but Gil's house probably wouldn't, and she should feel like she had some things that were _hers_.

Then I moved to clothing, though this would be harder. I had only seen her in a bed, but I had a pretty good idea. I'd sneaked a glance at the size on the nightgown she'd been wearing, too, but all it had said was Large. ...And I hadn't seen her in it, so I couldn't know for certain if it was really big on her or not…

But I had to try, at least. We could take her shopping in a few days to pick out her own clothing… clothing that would fit well. I bought a nightgown that looked similar to the one they'd found her in and selected a Large. Maybe her parents had purchased her first one here… I also threw a pink flannel set into the cart, and a light-weight cotton set—a white tank top and light blue shorts—so that she would have some options.

With a jolt of memory, I realized she would need underwear and socks too. I was glad I hadn't sent Gil—_if_ he'd remembered, he would have had a hard time trying to guess what size underwear she wore. I grabbed a pack of different colored one—I had thought Disney characters would be fun, but I wasn't sure if she would think that was for a much younger kid… I played it safe. A pack of socks later, I realized she would need shoes too.

I should have made a list. I pull out my cell phone and call Gil impatiently—it was a lot harder to guess on shoe size without the feet in front of you.

"Sara?" He answers, softly. This tells me that Halle is still asleep.

"Gil… could you guess, roughly, what her shoe size would be…?"

"Uh… her shoe size…?" I nod, though he can't see it, and I hear him gently lifting blankets. I can almost see his brow furrowing. And then I hear him ask a nurse to step in and help. I can hear the smile in the nurses' voice as she hazards a guess. I ended up buying three pairs, all different sizes, and hoping that just one would fit her.

Finally I came to the clothing section… with much trepidation. I hadn't done a lot of shopping as a little girl—mostly I wore hand-me-downs from much older cousins or clothes from thrift stores—so I didn't have a lot of personal experience from which to glean expertise.

I managed to buy several pairs of pants—in varying sizes, as well as many different shirts, reasoning that we could keep the tags on and return the ones she didn't like or that didn't fit… the important thing was that she have one or two things just in the moment.

But then, I wasn't really done yet. Gil's house wasn't bound to have kid-friendly food, if it had even been recently stocked. And what would she do… she didn't have any toys here. Thankful that I had come to this kind of store, I rearranged my cart so that there was more available room. I bought her a stack of books that said they were for third, fourth, and fifth grade—if she was Gil and I's baby, she was probably reading up—as well as a few stuffed animals, a baby doll or two, some puzzles, a few kids movies, and a Lego set.

…Okay, maybe I went overboard. I'd just… never shopped for my own daughter before. It could happen to anyone.

And then I pushed my cart into grocery, buying milk and an assorted pack of kids cereals, little snacks, and the ingredients of several kid-friendly meals—cheese and bread and tomato soup, macaroni and cheese, hot dogs and buns, chicken nuggets, applesauce, French fries, fish sticks… and a lot of fruit. Knowing Gil, he didn't have enough fresh produce in his house.

And finally, I pushed my overloaded cart to the front—I won't even tell you what I paid, the cost was astronomical. Once everything was paid for and loaded into my car, I wondered if I should just bring it all to his townhouse first… but a glance at the clock told me I didn't have time to stop at the hospital, pick up a key, go back and unload, and then come back.

She was awake when I hurried into the room, out of breath, carrying a bag with me. She smiled a small smile when I entered. She had supper in front of her, but it didn't look that appetizing, and she was picking at it. …She had hardly eaten all day. Gil was sitting next to her with a smile on his face too.

That was good. Maybe they'd been talking. I felt guilty that she had known of me, and not him… I liked the idea of them getting a chance to interact as father-daughter… or, well, something like that.

"Hi Halle. How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Pretty good. Did you know Gil collects butterflies?!" She asked me, wide-eyed with excitement. I grin.

"I did know that. He has a big collection at his house. Did you want to go see them?"

She nods, still looking excited, but her face is drawn a little, too. I can't say I blame her—I'd just reminded her that she wasn't going home with the parents she loved but the strangers she had just met. I take a deep breath.

"I got you some pajamas to wear home. Do you want to look at them, see which ones you want to wear?"

She nods, a little more eagerly, and I show her the three sets, and then she pushes the food away and steps out of bed. I help her change, especially since her feet are pretty cut up, and ask if she wants to finish supper here or eat at home.

"I wanna eat at… at your house."

I nod, glancing at Gil. "I, uh… I'm gonna go sign her release papers, Gil. Do you wanna have her ride with you… my back seat is kind of full."

Nearly a half hour later—did it really take that long to sign a few papers?—we were moving out of the hospital, Halle riding piggy-back on Gil's back, because of her lack of shoes. I wished I had a camera… I wished it were a happier occasion to be remembering. He sets her in his vehicle and makes sure she's buckled up safe, and then turns to me.

"I, uh… I'll follow you over?" Shit. I hadn't brought anything for myself. "Yeah… I'll see you there."

I get into my car, reaching into the backseat—by some miracle the milk was still cold. It was thankfully a very cold day, and it had been tucked between frozen foods. I was lucky, I hadn't realized it would take so long. And then Gil pulls out and I follow suit.

…We were taking our little girl… home.


	17. Baby Steps

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Here's another one! ...The next chapter is going to be an opportunity for Sara and Grissom to talk! :)

* * *

Chapter 17: Baby Steps

Gil pulled into his garage and I parked behind him, gathering the perishables from the back seat and hurrying up to meet the pair of them, because I knew I would feel strange walking into Gil's home if they went in first, without me… and I knew he was anxious to get her settled… give her some sense of "normal."

She was riding piggy-back again, because her feet were still absent shoes and wrapped up in bandages. The sight of the wrappings caused a deep pang in my chest, but it was soothed some by the sight of her clinging to Gil with absolute trust. …It made me wonder what would have happened if I had been more persistent in calling Gil… or if I'd given him my last name… or if I'd been brave enough to tell Catherine to tell Gil something more than 'It's important.' …Something like 'You're a father, call me back.'

…We could have been walking into our townhome, and she'd be on his back because he could refuse his little girl nothing, not because we didn't have shoes for the girl. She would be sleeping in bedroom covered in butterflies—like her bedroom at home—except she would already call them 'Lepidoptera' and have a collection to rival her father's… and she would know that I was mommy.

I put a hand to my suddenly aching abdomen, feeling the pain of her absence there again as if I'd just given birth again. I could have had every single moment of her life, her childhood, all to myself. Shaking my head, I followed them inside.

I had been to Gil's townhouse before—when he'd been kicked off the Strip Strangler case—but never on a personal level. I felt strangely nervous, but tried to hide it. She slipped down from his shoulders, but it was clear her feet were still sore. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her down to the kitchen, with a glance at me to make sure I was following, and finally set her on a bar stool.

I smile at Halle. "Are you hungry… you haven't eaten much today."

"Yes, ma'am."

This takes me by surprise. "You can call me Sara, Halle, it's okay."

She shakes her head. "My mommy said to call grownups 'sir' and 'ma'am'."

"…What did you call me, when you and your mommy talked about me?"

"Other-mommy-Sara."

I can't help it, I smile. "So your mommy let you call me Sara… kind of. I think she would be okay with you calling me Sara, and Gil… Gil."

She nods, slowly, uncertainly. "You… you don't have to, Halle. You can call us whatever you want to, okay? …Do you like grilled cheese and tomato soup?"

She nods, again, and I smile. "Why doesn't Gil make you some supper, and I'll get some things out of the car—I got you some clothes and toys and things, for the next few days, until we can go shopping for you. And after you eat, maybe Gil can show you your room… does that… sound okay?"

She nods, looking a little meek, and I move to head outside, but Gil stops me. "You stay here and start supper for us, I'll go get the stuff from your car."

I hesitate, but I'm grateful direct him to the keys in my purse, as if it's the most natural thing in the world for him to sift through my belongings. As soon as he's gone, I glance at Halle and smile again. "Are you feeling okay, Halle?"

"Tired," she says softly, as a yawn overtakes her. This event has really taken a lot out of her—she spent the whole day sleeping. I nod, locating a saucepan and a frying pan with some difficulty and placing them each on the stove over heat. Rather than dig through his cupboards, I use the food I'd purchased, only digging for butter in his fridge for the grilled cheese.

"You can go to bed right after supper time, if you want. I know it's been a hard day…"

"Sara?"

I turn from the stove to look at the little girl. She looks at her hands on the countertop instead.

"Yes, honey?"

"Did you… like my mommy and daddy?"

I sigh heavily. "I loved them. I… I never would have let you go to anyone I didn't love. And Halle, honey… they loved you. They loved you more than anything in the whole world. You were the best thing that ever happened to them."

I can see tears welling up in her eyes, but she turns from me, hiding them. After a moment, she slips from the bar stool and hobbles on her bandaged feet over to Gil's butterfly display cases, mostly to disguise her tears, I knew.

I debated for a moment, but I thought she just needed a minute to process all that had happened in the last day and night—it was a lot to take in, and she hadn't truly had any time just to think. I gave her a little space, and went about finishing the grilled cheese and stirring the soup, glancing back at her from time to time.

Gil stepped in at that moment, and I glance up in surprise. He had been outside a long time. At my questioning gaze, he holds up his cell phone.

"I, uh… explained some things to Ecklie. It wasn't easy, but we've got the next two weeks off, at least. I, um… I was thinking about… arrangements, once… they're released. Is there anyone to call?"

I shake my head. "I, uh... I'm not really sure. Brass will have to look into it, for us…"

He nods, slowly, and then moves forward and rests the bags on the counter top, looking fully at Halle for the first time since he's reentered. It's his turn to give me a questioning gaze. My response, a sad half-smile, tells him the obvious, and he nods and moves out to grab the rest of the bags. I'm ladling soup and cutting sandwiches when he comes in again, and Halle moves automatically back to the counter as I place plates and bowls in front of the bar stools.

It felt lacking—he needed a table. She sits, and eats quietly, but at least she's eating. I clear the bags off, gesturing that Gil should sit and eat, sorting out the rest of the groceries and putting everything away in my best guess of where it should go. The rest I leave on the floor—we'll take it to her bedroom right after supper.

I take a seat on the other side of Halle and realize with surprise that I'm very hungry—I haven't eaten all day. We ate in silence, spoons ringing as they began to hit the bottom of our bowls. Grissom was done first, and took each of our dishes as we finished and put them in the dishwasher, so that by the time Halle had swallowed her last bite and emptied her glass of milk, we were ready to take her to her room.

This was a good thing—she didn't look like she could keep her head up much longer. I gathered up the bags and Gil took Halle's hand and led her through the doorway in his kitchen and into the hallway.

"The room at the end, Halle, is my office. I have more butterflies in there, and some bugs, if you want to see them sometime… this door here is the bathroom, and Sara's going to put some things in there for you—a tooth brush and things. If there's anything you think of that you want or need… you just ask one of us, okay? Sara and I haven't spent much time with kids, so we might not think of everything…"

She nods, her eyelids heavy. I smile. We might have to repeat that request in the morning. He leads her a little further.

"The bedroom at the other end is my room. If you wake up and you need anything… or even if you're just sad and want to come talk, or sleep with someone, you come find me in there, okay?"

She nods again, as he steers her instead to the room directly to her left, closer to us than his room. My curiosity is peaked, thinking of the room down the hall, but it isn't time to play investigator in Grissom's house. We all move into his spare bedroom—it's a big bed. Too big for my little Halle, but of course it's what he has. She climbs immediately into the bed, looking exhausted.

Gil smiles and pulls the covers up around her, kissing her forehead softly. "Just sleep, sweetheart, we'll talk more in the morning…"

Again, she nods, but her eyes are closed already and she's snuggling into the pillow. Gil backs away, and I step in to place a gentle kiss to her forehead again, remembering the first time I had ever done this, and how tiny and yet how beautiful she had been.

I rose, and Gil put a hand on my shoulder, and we moved out, turning off the lights and pulling the door halfway closed, just in case she's afraid of the dark.


	18. Family

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So I only very quickly proof-read before posting, because I would fall asleep before I got it up if I tried to do it thoroughly... I apologize for any mistakes. :) Let me know what you think!

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Family

We moved silently back out to the kitchen, a heavy weight on the pair of us. We glance at each other, and it's clear that there's a conversation which cannot be avoided between us any longer… some decisions which need to be made. As happens so often at crime scenes, even when we're not getting along, we're in tune with each other—we both know, with a look, that we're about to sit down and figure some things out.

"I'll, uh… put on some coffee." He says softly, and I nod.

"Do you… have a notebook? We might need… to figure out… finances."

He hands me to coffee canister and moves back through the hallway—following the sounds of his footsteps and then the location of the rustling papers, I suspect he's moved into his office. He returns with a pen and a legal pad and pulls out two mugs, setting them beside the machine.

I tap my fingers on his counter top, and then sigh. "…I don't even know what to do, Gil. Should we… take her to a counselor?"

He shakes his head slowly. "I… I don't know. My father died when _I_ was nine… I never saw anyone, but… I wonder, sometimes, if I should have. …I had a really hard time of it. I… my mother, she tried to help, but… he was her whole world. I don't think she could… help me grieve… because she couldn't stop grieving herself, for a long time."

I step forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm… really sorry, Gil. I… had no idea."

He nods, and clears his throat like he's worried that his voice will come out shaky or gruff with emotion. I break the contact, because it seems like he's uncomfortable with how vulnerable he's just made himself and turn to the coffee maker, which mercifully has just finished percolating. I pour us each a cup, and silently he reaches around me, opening the cupboard above my head and pulling down a sugar bowl.

I smile at his concern and add the sugar to my own, knowing that he takes his black, before lifting both and passing his over. He takes it gratefully, and we have a moment of silence… not knowing how to start. He breaks it first.

"Maybe, uh… we should go up to the living room… so we don't wake her up."

I nod, and he takes the pad and pen and leads us up to the small living area—I'm tempted to keep my distance and sit in the chair after he sits on the couch, but I've left him at arm's length too long, and this is not a conversation we can have distantly. I sit on the opposite side of the couch, but turn my body towards him, my inside leg bent at the knee and resting up on the couch between us.

Another silence. …I decide to break it.

"Gil, I… I know I've already said this, a little, but… I _am_... _so_ sorry… for how this happened. I… I feel like I… have to explain, a little." I glance up at him, and then away.

"I… Part of it was… pride. And… self-preservation, and… fear. I was nineteen years old and I'd… never, _ever,_ just… slept with someone, like that. I was a… commitment kind of girl. A don't-kiss-until-the-third-date kind of girl. And I was nineteen. …Halle is half of that age now—she's half-way to the age I was when we… when I found out I was pregnant."

I take a drink of my coffee, just for something to do with my hands… just for a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I was scared and… and I didn't like the idea of letting a man who… who thought so little of me, after sleeping with me, that he couldn't return a damned phone call… letting a man like that make decisions for me and my baby. I… I didn't know anything about you, Gil, and… I've known my share of men only looking for one thing and more than my share of dead beat dads. I thought, if you were like that… then we were better off with you never knowing."

I looked down at my fingers, now anxiously playing with the seam on the leg of my jeans. "And then, I met you and I… I couldn't even believe… all a misunderstanding and… you weren't… any of those things. I… God, Gil, if you knew how I hated myself when I realized, and then… the idea of you hating me too… I did try to tell you but… I couldn't believe that you wouldn't… just hate me…because of what I'd done and then… and then I'd have lost someone else."

I blink the tears away, staring at my fidgeting fingers intently to keep from meeting his condemning gaze, bracing myself for the storm.

…It doesn't come. A quick, frightened glance tells me that his eyes are not condemning, but soft and sad. I sniffle, and look up at him, keeping his gaze this time.

"I… Sara, I… I'm just so sorry that I wasn't able to be there for you. I… since I found out, I've been replaying all the moments—all the times I felt you could have told me and didn't, and… and I never took into account how… young you were. …and how much the decisions you had to make, alone, were probably haunting you." He reaches out, and takes my hand into his.

"I… I still wish you'd have told me long before this, Sara, and I never could have hated you… but I understand why it was hard. Let's… let's just make some sort of plan, for all of this… so we aren't as confused by this predicament as she is. Let's do right by her now, even if the lead up to this point wasn't perfect…"

I nod, wiping impatiently at tears, but a sob breaks from my lips and I steal my hand from his to wipe with both hands, angry at myself for the weakness. He gives me a moment, and then sits up a little straighter—like he's preparing himself for business.

"I, uh… I don't know how you feel about this, but I… I gave it a lot of thought while you were out shopping. I… firmly believe that, while two people shouldn't necessarily get married just because they have a baby, a child needs two parents in its life. Two constant and present and reliable parents. And, uh… if you're not comfortable… of course I wouldn't push it, I just… the idea of not seeing her every day—"

"...Just tell me, Gil. We're… partners in this, now."

He nods, and swallows heavily, his eyes darting all over the room—anywhere but at me. "I was just thinking that… since you and I, for the most part, get along… maybe we should live together… with Halle."

My eyebrows raise in surprise, and I don't allow myself to jump ahead—I want to be certain of his meaning. Apparently my expression asked for the clarification I needed, because he quickly qualified, "I mean… I was thinking we could… look for a house. A… a three-bedroom, four maybe… and live as a… family. I mean, I know… I know you're still young, Sara, and… maybe that doesn't work for you, but… for me, I mean, it… this is the only family I'm likely to have and… I don't want to have missed 9 years and then… after finding her… only get her half of the time. …I want her all the time."

When my eyebrows remain near my hairline and I still don't speak, he continues, over-talking the way I usually do around him. "It's… you know, we'd each have a bedroom… we could look for a house with two masters, even, and… and it's not like you couldn't still… date, you know, or… do anything you would normally do. I just… well, this is a hard situation for both of us, and especially for Halle, and I just think that if she had us both around it would provide more stability than going back and forth between homes and—"

"Gil."

He stops abrubtly, taking a deep breath. Beads of sweat linger on his forehead, and he runs his hands over his face slowly. "Right, I know, it's a crazy idea. I'm sorry Sara, I jus—"

"Gil." I say again, a little more insistently. When he stops this time, he gives me his full attention, doubt and unease clear in his eyes. "I… I think we should do it. Halle is what's important, now… the most important thing, from now on. We'll give her stability and… live like a family. Divide shared costs… in half? We'll… make this work, for her."

He draws me almost roughly into a tight hug, pressing me tightly to his body, and then I realize tears are falling freely from his eyes onto my tee shirt. He's trembling, slightly, and a shaky "Thank you" is whispered into my hair with the relief of a starving man offered food. I squeeze him tightly too, taking in the scent of him, my eyes filling with tears too.

When he pulls from me, wiping at his eyes embarrassedly, his posture tells me he's back to business. "I don't want to split the costs half-way. I make almost twice what you do, so I'll pay two-thirds of all our shared costs. We could even just get a checking account or a credit card, together, to put things that are shared on—each month we'll split the cost between us, to keep it simple…"

I find myself nodding, getting excited, wanting to jump into a life that did not seem so difficult, because I would have a partner in more than just words and weekends—I was going to have my own perfect little family… the one I thought I'd never have… the one I thought I didn't deserve.

"Tomorrow we should call a real estate agent, to start looking! …I don't even know what our price range would be… What do we want in a house?" I draw the pad of paper from his side of the coffee table and click the pen to attention, beginning to write—

-3-4 Bedrooms

-2 masters, if possible

-big backyard

-good school district

-big bathtub

-child's room between ours

I'm still writing 'ours' when his hand reaches out and catches mine. "Sara… we… we both work the graveyard shift."

I stop, my excitement dwindling. "Are you… do you think… one of us should switch?"

He swallows. "I suppose we could hire a nanny or a… babysitter, to sleep here…"

I shake my head. "I want to be here, at night… I don't want her sleeping alone, with strangers…"

He nods, slowly, sensing my distress. "Alright Sara, we'll… we'll take one thing at a time. We'll figure out our… schedules when the time comes. Tomorrow Halle is going to be a little more alert… we need to know what we're going to tell her."

I nod, drawing in deep, steadying breaths. "Okay, we… we tell her that… that we're going to buy a house here in Vegas, so that we can all live here together. …She… she might want some things, in Boston—things from her parents, clothes, personal possessions… I… I think we're going to have to make a trip to Boston, once the case is closed and… Tom and Erika's bodies are… released."

He nods, taking the pad from me and beginning to write as he speaks.

"So our immediate concerns, just for tomorrow—we tell her our plans, see if she has clothes that fit, and take her shopping, if she's up to it. Basics. Long-term… we need to think about a trip to Boston, once Brass has figured out who their contacts would be, buying a house, seeing if… if she needs… to talk to someone… We need to register her in a school here, come August, and we need to figure out our work schedules… and we need to get some sort of joint financial… arrangement. I guess this all depends on when your apartment lease is up. …And I suppose we'll need to talk to… family."

At my curious gaze, he smiles. "My mother will be so happy to hear that she has a grandchild. …Will your family be happy? Do… do they know? I suppose they would..."

I shake my head. "I don't… I don't really have a family."

"Oh."

He doesn't know what to say, and I smile to spare him the discomfort.

"It's fine, really… um… in the mean time, I… I didn't think to stop and pick up anything for myself. Should I head home and come back in the morning, or…?"

He shakes his head. "No. We're a family now… we stay together. I'll get you something to sleep in, and I'll take the couch, okay?"

"No, Gil." I see he's about to argue and play the gentleman, so I preempt it. "You told her that you would be in there… I don't want her to come looking for you and not be able to find you. …She needs consistency… on the most basic of levels, she needs things to happen the way we say they're going to, so that she can start to trust her surroundings again…"

He has no counter to this argument, and so gives in, bringing me a pillow from his bed and a thick comforter, along with a pair of black sweatpants and a white crime lab t-shirt. We hug, somewhat awkwardly, but happily, and part for the night.

…I really think, now, that things are going to work out for us. We have a myriad of obstacles before us, but we're not alone, anymore. We're a family.


	19. Boston

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do better things with them than CBS...

A/N: Sooo, for some reason I couldn't login last night, when I was going to post 19 and 20 (because 20 is short...). I'm going to be nice to my lovely readers, and post all three at once, so I don't keep you waiting... and, I figure, you know, since _I'm_ being so nice... maybe I'll still get a review for each chapter, like I probably would if I held out on you... which I wouldn't do. That would be mean. :)

Besides, 21 is my favorite, so I can't wait to see what people say. Hehe.

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Chapter 19: Boston

Brass finally got in contact with someone in Boston who had known Tom and Erika—apparently they mostly associated with the people from Tom's law office, with the exception of Erika's editor. They met other couples for drinks every so often, but for the most part were homebodies—committed to family and a home life. The bodies were released to a man who worked in Tom's office—he'd been his best man in their wedding, apparently—and Sara called him once Brass had given us a number, asking about Halle's possessions.

The Stevens hadn't had a will, but as Halle was their next-of-kin, everything was left to her. This complicated things immensely for Sara and I—we did not want to be in charge of two basic stranger's entire worldly possessions, but Halle certainly couldn't make those decisions on her own.

I talked to Ecklie again—he wasn't happy about it, but Catherine was capable of acting as supervisor in my absence, and Sara and I had enough vacation time for him to, more or less, not have a choice in the matter. And then we booked three tickets to Boston.

Sara had spent hours before we left cleaning my townhome, because we had a real estate agent coming while we were gone to take pictures and put the house on the market—it was better, for us, if at least some of the showings could be done while we were gone. I tried to help, but I think she found my input more irritating than anything, so I resigned myself to playing board games or watching movies with Halle.

Halle was sweet, and opening up to us… relaxing a little, and treating the townhouse like home. She had accepted our explanations without comment, and went along with the necessary preparations we had to make without argument. But she… didn't take joy in simple things, the way most children do. She wasn't excited to go shopping for clothes or toys… she didn't get excited when Sara made brownies for dessert or when her favorite television show came on…

It worried us, but we decided to give her some time—we were still just dealing with the fallout of the event… trying to piece together a life. Sara's lease, luckily, was on a month-by-month basis since she'd lived there over a year, so we were simply waiting to see how long it would take to sell the townhouse and find our new home before she gave notice.

Our primary concern, until then, was Boston. Once we had taken care of all of those issues, we could think about moving, and tying up loose ends, and making career decisions… and until things settled down, how could one even diagnose whether our little girl was adjusting to the unacceptable and unbelievable set of circumstances this life had thrown at her?

The morning we were leaving I rose early—it was the first time I'd woken up before Sara, and I glanced up at her from the kitchen, a smile on my lips. She was curled up on my couch, her hair strewn wildly across the pillow, her breath coming softly.

Something I hadn't know about Sara was that she was compulsively organized—had I planned this trip, we'd all be frantically running around and packing right now, uncertain we would make the flight on time. Instead I stood calmly in the kitchen, drinking coffee and contemplating making breakfast rather than all of us just picking a cereal and eating at our own pace as we had every other morning. Three packed suitcases were resting by the door, having been double and triple checked.

Sara's clothes were laid out on the chair beside the couch on which she slept, and mine had been laid out on my dresser, right down to the pair of underwear I was wearing. Halle's clothes were similarly arranged on a hanger hung over the door of the closet.

In the bathroom, all the necessary morning toiletries were laid out on the countertop with the bag they would be packed in open and ready to be tucked into the carry-on bag which was up with the packed suitcases—containing a change of clothes for all of us, cell phone chargers, books for the plane, tickets and necessary paperwork and information, and just enough space for the toiletry bag to be tucked in.

I had to admit it was a much calmer morning-before-a-flight than I had ever had—Sara woke when the French Toast was about half finished, and was out of the shower and dressed in time to gently shake Halle awake to come have breakfast. The little girl dressed and Sara packed toiletries while I double-checked that we had tickets, etc. Not that I needed to. We had everything we could even remotely need.

It was nice to have Sara around, to help with things like that. I often got caught up in one thought and could completely disregard a whole myriad of other, equally important, things.

Halle slept through most of the plane ride, and Sara and I discussed how she would handle going to her old home, and how hard it was going to be for her… but in truth, there was very little to be done for it. We were met at the airport by the man who had been Tom's best man and he greeted Halle kindly—she half-smiled and looked away from the man, shy.

We met with Tom and Erika's lawyers and, upon learning they truly had no family to offer their home and assorted possessions to, we decided we would put the house up for sale… all the money from it, and the money they had in their assorted accounts, would be put away for Halle's college fund. But Halle did inform us she had a dog—I vaguely remembered a boxer puppy in a picture of her, when she was little.

A little digging revealed where they had him boarded. His name was Hank. …We could hardly take the little girl's dog too. She had lost so much. We found his carrier in the garage, and arranged to have him flown back to Vegas with us.

And then we had to sort…

Halle's room was the hardest. She cried and cried as we packed away her toys and clothes in boxes to be shipped to the townhouse in Vegas, and eventually Sara just pulled her out of the room and held her while she cried. I finished the packing and then Sara and I had Halle lead us through the house to pack up other things that she might want—heirlooms or other special possessions. We kept anything that we thought might have been valuable or sentimental, making sure we had thoroughly searched the house so as not to miss anything.

We donated their furniture and clothing to a local shelter, cleaned the now-empty home, and gave the real estate agent here a key. We attended the funeral on the last day we were there, and carried our sobbing child out to the car afterwards, headed to the airport. It had been a long week for us, and we couldn't imagine how hard it had been for her.

Even Halle seemed relieved to return to Vegas and the townhouse. …And even though we had gotten through the trip, there was still so much more to deal with…

It was going to be a long road.


	20. Moving

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Reviews, yes?

Oh! Also something I thought of... I was told that when I updated another story of mine (which some of you read also) that it didn't send out an alert. Sooo, for those who care to know, there's another chapter up for Destiny as well. :)

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Chapter 20: Moving

While the house in Boston sold quickly, the townhouse took longer. We set up her college fund the same day we opened a joint savings, checking, and credit card account at a bank. And then, we turned our eyes to new homes… and what we were going to do about our jobs.

I had determined that we couldn't both stay on grave, and as Gil's income was far more important to our fiscal well-being, and because he was the foundation of the team, I decided that I would have to be the one to switch. I called Ecklie about a switch to day shift, and though he wasn't happy, when I explained that if he wouldn't arrange it I would be forced to quit, he told me he would figure it out by the time we came back.

When was that going to be, exactly? He wanted to know. I didn't know. He wasn't happy.

And then we found the house—it was beautiful, but not so big that it would make me feel out-of-place… I'd never lived in particularly nice surroundings. There were three bedrooms on an upper floor—two masters and a little one in the center, next to a main bathroom. Our real estate agent didn't hesitate to tell us how rare it was to find those particular qualifications.

There was an open office area at the top landing of the staircase, an entryway and living room at the bottom, and an open kitchen and dining room in the back of the house, with double glass doors out to a big backyard, complete with swing set.

We didn't want to lose it—it was amazing that it was in our price range, and not even at the top. They accepted our offer, and I put in notice at my apartment… but the pressure was on to sell the townhouse now. There was no way we could pay two mortgages.

We started packing up the townhouse anyway—we were so excited to be moving to our new home… and Halle was too. Very little had been able to excite her… as soon as we saw her enthusiasm, we decided we would do everything we could to sell the townhouse. We lowered the price, got an offer, and accepted.

We called Ecklie and gave him a date we'd be returning, and began the process of moving in, once we'd finally closed on the house. Our house.

We set up Halle's bedroom first—she had wanted to keep the butterfly blankets from her old room, and we painted her room pink, adding several of Gil's brightest butterfly displays to the walls. We also put a family picture of her and Tom and Erika that we'd taken from Boston on her dresser. This seemed to make her happy, and now she had a place that was completely hers.

We cleared out my apartment next, because I had only a week left before I had to turn over the keys. Gil insisted I take the larger of the rooms, because it had the garden tub I'd wanted, and he said he would never use it. He helped me put the frame together and we moved furniture around until I was happy, and then he left me to settle my things in while he sorted the rest of my boxes into their respective rooms—laundry, kitchen, bathroom, living room, linens. I was nothing if not organized. No miscellaneous boxes for me.

Our furniture didn't match, but… it wasn't as bad as it could have been… and we decided, until we could afford to buy new furniture, we were okay with the slight mismatching. We moved the living room furniture, and I spent the day cleaning my apartment while Halle helped Gil pack up some of the things from his townhouse.

…This was a poor choice. I should have made him clean, even though it would hardly have been done well… his boxes were almost all marked 'Misc.'

We set up his bedroom next, but I left him to sort all of his non-descript boxes, choosing instead to ask Halle to help me decide how to decorate. We painted the living room purple—because I missed my purple walls already—and she helped me place the pictures we had of her around the house. She chose her one-year old cake picture for Gil's nightstand, and the Valentine picture for mine.

Hank got to come over from the townhouse next, and while Gil sorted through the boxes he had yet to get through, I went to clean the townhouse for its new occupants.

And still, the office and the kitchen and the bathrooms were filled with boxes… And we needed to buy a decent dining table—both of us had only had bar stools.

By the time we were done, we were exhausted, and nowhere near ready to go back to work, but at least we were settled… the only things to focus on now would be the family we had built in hardly any time at all.


	21. Breakfast Conversation

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: Sooo, like I said, this is a favorite. Please review this one, even if you're going to be a meanie-head and not review the other two. :P

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Chapter 21: Breakfast Conversation

It was hard, when Sara moved to the day shift. I woke up that morning to find her already in the shower, Halle sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and the comics from the newspaper in front of her. I smiled. "Sara already made you breakfast? Here I was going to see if you wanted breakfast tacos."

She grinned. The first time I had made them—hash browns, scrambled eggs, and breakfast sausage wrapped in tortillas—both she and Sara had given me a look. Like I was crazy. The look went away once they tried it. I had rolled my eyes excessively that morning—it was not all that unusual a breakfast item, but apparently neither had even heard of such a thing.

Sara had picked out the sausage. …I keep forgetting, when I cook, that she's a vegetarian. I'm going to have to try to remember, from now on.

I put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly until she let out a squeal and a stream of giggles—she was very ticklish—and moved to make my own bowl of cereal. By the time I was sitting across from her, Sara rushing in, fully dressed but looking a little harassed. At my raised eyebrow, he made a grumbling noise.

"I'm not used to being ready to go so early. I feel disorganized!" She poured coffee into a travel cup rather more aggressively than absolutely necessary, and Halle and I exchanged a glance—we were both trying to hide our smiles.

"Let me help. What do you need?"

"Ugh. Nothing, I have it all now. I just have to leave in about ten minutes. I don't even feel like I should be awake this early."

I nod, sympathetically. "It's going to take a while to adjust…"

She nods, drinking deeply from the coffee—this seems to help. She moves over to Halle and kisses her cheek softly. "You okay, sweet pea? What are you and Gil gonna do today?"

She shrugs, and the corners of my mouth turn down. Well, she can't always be happy—it was a rare treat that she'd been so smiley thus far this morning. Sara and I exchange another glance. We were going to need to talk about this—we were pretty much settled, and school was now looming a few weeks away.

Maybe we would at least need to contact a grief counselor, to tell us how we could help her… to see if we should be worried. She obviously couldn't be expected to be happy overnight, but we also didn't want to leave it so long that, by the time she saw someone, it had become and deeper and more complex problem. We just wanted her to be healthy.

Sara hides her frown and tickles the same spot I had just tickled, eliciting and giggly response, and that brightens both our spirits. Another kiss and a smile to me, and she's sweeping out of the room to leave for her first day on day shift. I know that Ecklie will probably be there throughout her shift—the bright side about working grave is that he's usually gone, unless he needs something. Although I'm sure he'll stop in tonight, because it's my first night back.

Ugh.

The front door closed loudly, and then I heard Hank's tags jingling—he was trotting into the kitchen, looking sleepy. The door must have woken him up. I grin and give him a scratch behind the ears, and then he moves over to Halle and rests his head on her leg. It makes me really glad we kept the dog—a little girl needs a dog.

I put my dishes away slowly. "So, Halle… did you want to go to a park today? We could take Hank, let him get some fresh air…"

Her spoon slowly stirred the soggy remnants of her cereal in the chocolate-colored milk. "The back yard has a swing set… and air."

I blink in surprise. Okay then. "Oh… okay." I say, because I don't know how to respond, but I don't want to say nothing at all. I put my dishes away slowly, still trying to determine how one should deal with a comment like that, the next time it's thrown out, when she speaks again.

"How come… you and Sara… don't sleep together?"

I nearly choked, though there was nothing in my mouth. "W-what…?"

Her eyes narrow in deep concentration. "My mommy and daddy said that… I asked them where babies came from, and why they couldn't have one… why they had to get me from my-other-mommy… Sara. An' they… they said that babies were made when a mommy and daddy loved each other, like they loved each other… but just sometimes it didn't work, no matter how much a mommy and daddy tried."

I try to follow her train of thought, try to keep up with what this has to do with Sara and I's sleeping arrangements, but before I'm certain I know where she's going, she's explaining further.

"So if… you and Sara loved each other, to make me… How come you don't sleep like my mommy and daddy?"

My jaw has dropped, and I struggle to regain control—to save face. Sara and I—it hadn't even occurred to us… that she would ask a question like this. But of course she would. Why wouldn't she ask? I draw in a deep breath, to steady myself.

"Well, uh… you… you like Aladdin, don't you?"

She nods, her nose wrinkling. She doesn't understand.

"Remember… in the beginning, they love each other, but then the guards come and pull them apart?" She nods. "And when they see each other again, they're not… together and in love, because… they had been apart, for so long."

I underestimated my little girl's brain, and overestimated my understanding of the plot—I hadn't really paid attention, when we watched the movie… mostly I had watched Halle, and lost myself in my thoughts.

She frowns. "But… they weren't just apart, Jasmine thought Aladdin was dead. And then she thought he was Prince Ali, and that he was mean like the other princes… and then, when she spent some time with him, they were in love again."

_Oh._ Shit. "Okay, maybe, uh… maybe it wasn't a good example. I'm just… your mommy and I… we did love each other. We did make you with… with love. But she lived in Boston, like you used to… and I lived here, in the townhouse… and after we made you, we didn't see each other for a long time."

"But when Aladdin and Jasmine saw each other, after being apart a long time, they fell in love again." It was official. I was never making a Disney analogy again. I sigh.

"Right, but… but when Sara and I saw each other again, uh… I was her boss. I… You're not allowed to love someone you're the boss of."

She giggles. That was not the reaction I expected. "That's silly. Nobody can say who you're _allowed_ to love! _Aladdin and Jasmine_ weren't allowed to love each other, but they did… and they got married. …I think you and Sara should get married."

I blink in surprise. "W-wh… what?" She giggles again.

"Well you already said you loved each other. My mommy said that when you love someone, you always love them—forever and ever. And when a mommy and daddy love each other, they get married." She shrugged, a tiny smile on her lips. "Come on Hank, let's go play Barbies."

She got up then, slipping from her chair as if we'd just been discussing her favorite color or what she wanted for supper that night, and left, headed for her room, the older Boxer trailing behind her with a lazily wagging tail.

She was definately her mother's daughter.


	22. Day Shift

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: So I know I should hold off on updating, but I get too excited to hear what you'll all think about each new chapter. It's a curse, really.

So... feed my addiction? Review?

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Chapter 22: Day Shift

I hated day shift. I hated Ecklie. I hated Sofia.

I didn't arrive my usual fifteen minutes early, because I had been running late, but I was still seated in the break room five minutes before shirt started. I was there before one of their CSIs, even, yet Ecklie made a snide comment to me about punctuality on the lead shift in the lab. He didn't address the person who actually came in late.

I had to bite my tongue—Day shift was _not_ the lead shift. If anything, grave took on nearly twice the cases that day shift did. Part of this was because more crimes were committed at night, but part of it was because our solve rate was so much higher. We picked up the slack for the rest of the lab because Gil was brilliant and Ecklie was horrible.

I didn't say any of these things, though. I smiled at him, hoping to _actually_ kill him with kindness, and waited for my assignment. Before he could get around to passing them out, however—the man did love to hear himself talk—a woman with long blonde hair swept in. I recognized her face, but did not know her name.

"Hello, I know I'm switching to the night shift tonight, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to come in for this shift and work through, since I'm sure it'll be tough with a new person."

I cleared my throat. "I'm not a new CSI, nor am I new to the lab. I'm coming off grave." Her voice seemed strange to me—did she have a strange accent or did she just think so highly of herself that she always sounded indulgent and haughty, simultaneously.

She smiled too kindly—it was the smile I had given Ecklie a moment before. "Then I imagine you'll be staying through with me, since this kind of adjustment creates so much havoc in the team dynamic."

"I can't stay through. I have a child."

She laughed—an obnoxious, trilling sound. "Oh yes, that's right. Funny, how you and Grissom never mentioned your… past… when he hired you without an application or references…"

My eyes narrowed. "There was nothing between us when the job was offered and there has been nothing since."

There was a flash in her eyes—like this was information she had been baiting me strictly in order to receive. "No, I suppose you wouldn't keep his interest for so long, would you?"

I'm filling with anger as she speaks, and I stand, my chair sliding back noisily as I do, but I'm stopped before I can scream at her. By Ecklie. Ugh.

"Sidle! That's enough… Ladies, let's try to be civil. Sofia, thank you for coming in. Now, for our assignments…"

I got a decomp. I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. When I got into the Denali, alone—of course I had a decomp alone… Gil never gave out decomps alone—I sent him a text message.

_Ecklie gave me a decomp. Can you pick up lemons? …I'm alone on the case but I'll try not to be late. I promise I'll be back in time for you to get to work on time. :) Thanks!_

While driving, I wondered vaguely when Gil and I had made such a shift in our relationship. I mean, I knew it had been when Halle came along… but it wasn't like the moment I brought her home, I suddenly felt like I could text him… complain about people…

The look in Sofia's eyes flashed in my memory. She would be working grave. She was taking my place. And I knew, just knew, that she was interested in him. Gil had said that both of us could date, but… I hadn't really taken into account what it would be like to watch him get ready for a date on his night off, in our home.

But certainly, Sofia must hardly know him. Surely, I had more of a claim on the man than she did. …Surely I wouldn't have to watch him woo another woman…

My thigh vibrated, interrupting my thoughts just in time for me to realize I'd missed my turn. Cursing, I took the next exit and backtracked, digging my phone out of my pocket, even though I knew it was dangerous to text and drive.

_You got it. Halle says you can't be late—we're making you supper tonight. (No sausage this time, I promise.) Ecklie's an ass; don't let him get to you._

I grinned and put the phone back into my pocket, parking outside my scene. It actually wasn't bad, as far as decomps go. A body had been stuffed into a large plastic tote and buried in the woods. The last flash flood had unearthed a corner of it, and a concerned hiker had called it in. Transport was easy, and the bulk of the exposure to the body would be done by the coroner.

I managed to get out on time, and threw the bag containing the clothes I'd worn in the garbage can at the end of the driveway before moving inside—I'd been so mad at Ecklie that it didn't occur to me to change into a jumpsuit before I arrived, at which point there was nothing to be done for the clothes anyway.

Gil and Halle were out in the backyard, so I went directly to the shower in my bathroom, where a bag of lemons hung, all already cut in half for me. …How sweet.

I turned the water on and stepped in, losing myself in the feel of the hot water. It was going to be hard, working day shift, if every day were like today. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, but I had to get out of that mindset—I was used to sleeping just after my after-shift-shower and being awake in the late afternoon before work. Now I would have to work, stay awake for hours, and then sleep. If I slept after shift, I'd be up all night, which I couldn't do anymore.

I jumped out loud when I felt something wet on the back of my calf—something that was not the cascade of shower water. I turned around frantically—Hank was there, smiling a doggy smile and licking the water from my knees. I was relieved, but I was also pretty sure I'd closed the door…

"Sara?" Halle's voice. I smiled. I loved her voice.

"Yes, hon?"

"Gil told me to come tell you that dinner's ready, whenever you're done."

I stuck my head out of the curtain. "Thanks, hon."

"It smells funny in here."

I laughed. "Sometimes my job makes me smell bad. That's why you and Gil had to go buy lemons today."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't want a smelly job."

I laugh again, slipping my head back in but still talking, so she knows she doesn't have to leave. "Well, I didn't want a smelly job either, but I get to help people, so it makes it okay."

"What is your job?"

I reach for the conditioner, finally satisfied that I don't smell like death anymore. "Well, I work with the police… I… Gil and I both, we go to places where people have done bad things, and we try to figure out who did it, so they can go to jail."

"So… you catch bad guys?"

I smile softly. "Yeah. We try. We catch them before they can hurt anyone else."

"Did you catch the bad guy who hurt my mommy and daddy?"

I freeze, and then clear my throat. "I, um… someone that we work with, someone on Gil's team… is still looking for him. To try to catch him. Do you remember when that nice man, Jim, came to ask about what happened…? He let you play with his badge."

"Yeah?"

"He and Nick, he's the other nice man... remember he brushed your hair, and cleaned under your fingernails, and took pictures…? They're looking for that bad guy."

"…Do you think, when he catches him, my bad dreams will go away?"

I turn the water off, abruptly, and snatch a towel quickly, stepping out. "…You're having bad dreams, Halle? How come you didn't tell us?"

She shrugs, looking decidedly at Hank who had his head in the shower, licking water from the floor. I nudge him away. For all I know that's decomp-water.

"Halle, honey, you… you don't have to tell us, when you have a bad dream… but we'd really like to help you and… make you feel safe."

She keeps looking down and so I crouch down, tugging the towel to make sure it keeps covering me—not that I care if she sees me, but it feels… strange. I had showered with both of my parents—separately, of course—when I was little, but this is different—because Halle is simultaneously a near-stranger and my baby. I feel like I don't know what's motherly and what's creepy.

"Halle, did… did you know that I have bad dreams too?"

She raises her eyes to me. "About… bad guys?"

I nod, slowly, looking at her very seriously. "Always about bad guys. I dream about the bad guys that I can't catch… and the ones who scare me… I dream about the bad guys who hurt me, when I was little… but mostly, lately, I dream about the bad guys who hurt you… who hurt your parents. It scares me—and I always wake up crying, so happy that you're okay, even though I'm sad about your mommy and daddy."

She swallows hard, and tears brim in her eyes. "I wake up crying too."

I pull her into a hug and she doesn't stiffen or hesitate, which she still sometimes does, but squeezes me tightly and I feel her tears fall to my shoulder. "Halle, you… the next time you wake up from a dream… I want you to come wake me up, okay? Come sleep in my bed, and I'll keep you safe… okay?"

She nods against me, still crying softly, and I hear soft footsteps in the hallway outside my bedroom. "Halle?" comes Gil's voice. He doesn't want to come into my room when I've just gotten out of the shower, but he's worried about her.

She doesn't answer, so I speak up. "She's… she's in here, Gil."

I hear him move through the bedroom and glance around the door to take in the sight of me wrapped in a yellow towel, my hair soaking wet, in a bathroom smelling of wet decomp and lemons, with a crying little girl in my arms and a dog lying on the floor, licking the water off the floor despite my previous discouragement. At least that water had dripped off my body—it was probably clean.

"Oh, I'll… I'll go. I was just—"

Halle turned around then, though, and ran to hug Gil instead, who looked surprised at the fierceness with which she embraced him. "Will you tell Nick to get the bad guy, please?" She murmurs softly against his chest, and his eyes lock on mine. He understands.

"Oh, of course honey. I know he's trying as hard as he can, but I'll tell him it's _really_ important, okay? I promise, baby."

She sniffles, softly, and pulls back, wiping her eyes. I rise to my feet. Gil glances at me and then picks Halle up to rest on his hip as if she's a much younger child. "Come on, honey, let's let Sara get dressed so we can have supper…"

She nods, and he gives me a small smile, taking her from the room, which of course causes Hank to get up to follow. He doesn't like to let her out of his sight, unless she's sleeping.

When they're gone, I sigh softly, moving to my dresser to find a change of clothes. I hate that she's having bad dreams, but there's a part of me that feels good—she's talking to us more, at least.


	23. The Team

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Sooo, this one is short, I know, but I wanted to get this up right away because I could have chapter 24 ready anywhere from an hour from now to not 'til midnight... I'm hoping to update Destiny today, and I'll be rewriting the chapter I'm on about ten times, I imagine, and not until after will I post 24... so, I wanted to give you something, my lovelies!

Also, someone asked about an update schedule... yeah, I'm sorry. I don't have one. It's just kinda... whenever I get around to it. So there could be four in a night, and then none for several days... Sorry. :(

Thanks for the reviews! Tell me what you think of this chapter--I like this Grissom... hehe.

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Chapter 23: The team.

It was going to be the first time I'd spoken to anyone on the team since Nick had come to process Halle in the hospital. I was a little concerned about it, but Sara and I had prepared for it, somewhat. Once school started and we'd adjusted to the new schedule, we'd have everyone over to see the house and maybe we'd grill out. In the meantime, however, we just wanted to focus on keeping things normal. …Still, there was going to be some explaining to do.

I got to read her a story, kiss her, and tuck her in, and that made me feel good—I wouldn't be missing much, while I was at work. Shortly after she drifted to sleep, however, I had to leave. I smiled at Sara, and felt the strangest of urges to hug her before leaving. I swallowed, breaking our gaze, because I didn't know what to do about that urge.

Granted, we had been intimate in the past… and I obviously knew I hadn't ever gotten over her, but the last year and a half since she had pulled away from me in her hotel room and become far too professional for my liking, we'd been almost constantly at odds.

There was not the slightest reason to believe that she was still interested. For all I knew, the kiss we'd shared at the door to her hotel room was a mistake, in her mind…

But I loved our life together. I loved seeing her with messy hair and in her pajamas… I loved knowing what she did in her free time, and what she ate for breakfast. I liked that, when she had first come to live at the townhouse, occupying the couch, that we'd each done our own laundry separately, but now three hampers emptied into a single washer.

I folded my clothes, and Halle's, and I folded Sara's pants and shirts and socks… I didn't touch anything else. It felt too… intimate. A husband folded his wife's panties. The roommate who fathered a child didn't. But I couldn't always help myself—I looked. They were… colorful. And… little. And… textured… that might have been the most intriguing part, because I never let myself touch them.

I would fall asleep imagining the _feel_ of her undergarments—the roughness of lace, the silkiness of silk, the softness of cotton, the smoothness of satin. I also thought of the bumpy, simultaneously soft and rough feeling of the terrycloth robe she'd been in, tonight, when I went looking for Halle. I thought about her perfect body clad in only panties and a bra, in the middle of the break room, the day we had found Halle.

At the time, I had been surprised, and looked, of course, but… Halle had been the biggest thing on my mind. …But later, when I relived the moment, it spurred on all manner of work-related fantasies. The table in the break room… my office… the couch in Brass' office… against the glass walls of any of the labs, on an autopsy table in the morgue—though this is one I didn't think I would ever share with anyone, ever.

When I got to said break room, there was hardly a minute left before shift was starting. Everyone was there, and looked to be eagerly awaiting my arrival. There was a blonde woman from day shift, to take Sara's place. Sonia, or something. I took a seat, avoiding questioning eyes.

"So, it looks like Catherine had kept the shift running smoothly in my absence. It's gonna be a slow night so, Cath, I'm gonna keep you here with me to catch me up on everything. There are only two other cases, so far—Warrick, you take the trick roll. Nick and—" I stop, not wanting to say the wrong name. She fills it in for me with a smile.

"Sofia Curtis."

I nod. "Right. Nick and Sofia, you've got a 419 at the Tangiers." I passed them their sheets, not rising, waiting for them to leave first. They didn't move.

After a moment, and my confused glance, Warrick chuckles. "What, you're not gonna explain how you and Sara have a nine year old daughter that none of us knew about?"

My eyes narrow. "I think it's pretty clear _how_ it happened…"

"Right," Catherine intercedes with a smirk, "but… when?"

Again, my eyes narrow. "Ten years ago. She's nine, and it takes nine months for a—"

Nick this time. "No, okay, we understand roughly when it happened. We just… we're looking for you to fill in the holes we couldn't fill in ourselves."

My eyebrows raise. "I don't know what holes those would be—you knew that Sara was a friend I asked to come, after Holly Gribbs died… you know that eight years prior we obviously...had a moment. You know from the case that Sara gave her up for adoption, but that custody would return to her in the event that something happened to the couple she chose. You know that Halle is living with us now."

Sofia spoke—this surprised me. She had a strange sort of accent that I couldn't place… "You two are living together…? Isn't that a violation of lab policy?"

I sigh. "If she had remained on this shift, it would have been. We didn't move in together until recently… we just bought a house."

Catherine interjects—"Wait a second, you two have a long-lost baby appear and all of a sudden you're are a couple?"

"No… no. We're not a couple. It's a three bedroom, we… we're like… roommates, I guess. We just wanted… a stable environment… for Halle. Two parents, one house… consistency, you know?"

Sofia is watching me closely and my eyes flicker to her. I'm not sure why, exactly, she's so focused on me… but it makes me uncomfortable. Warrick pats my back.

"Well, good for you guys. I think that's an amazing thing you're doing, trying to provide stability. I wish my dad would have stuck around…"

"Thank you, Warrick."

They all start to rise, and Nick pats my back too. "Halle's a sweetheart, Gris. You and Sara are gonna have to have us over soon. Tell her we missed her tonight, okay?"

I nod, and they leave me with Catherine.

…It could have gone worse.


	24. Lonely

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: So, I didn't plan for this to be a smutty chapter, but it just kind of happened that way.

Just a reminder, since I haven't had much to warrant the rating since the first chapter, this story is rated M.

...Even though it's smutty, it's not what you're hoping for... yet. So don't get your hopes up. Hehe.

Leave me a review! I promise I write faster when you do...

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Chapter 24: Lonely

It was strange to be in our big house alone. Halle was there, of course, but she was sound asleep and I was trying to stay awake at least until ten or eleven, so that I wouldn't wake up ridiculously early; I needed to get used to my new schedule. I did chores at first, and these occupied me… I cleaned the kitchen, organized the fridge—Gil did not appreciate order quite the way I did—and scrubbed out my bathroom, with lemons, to make sure the smell of my decomp wouldn't linger.

As long as I was doing that, I figured I'd clean the hall bathroom which we called Halle's, even going so far as to paint it pink to match her room and have fuzzy striped rugs and a polka dot shower curtain… she had liked that. I considered cleaning Gil's bathroom, and rejected the idea. In a few days I would peek in and see if it had been done—it seemed a little too intimate, just now.

I did some laundry, and ended up back in the hallway, pacing. I glanced in at Halle—sleeping soundly—and peered back into Gil's bedroom, just for something to do. …I could wash his bedding and put it back before he got home… it was always nice to come home and slip into a clean bed. …But that felt too personal too.

I wasn't sure what our boundaries were, and Sofia had made me more doubtful today than normal… I shook my head. I wasn't going to second guess myself because of what she had to say. I knew more about Gil than she did—we were closer, far closer, than they'd ever be… I moved briskly into the room, but stopped at the head of his bed, hesitating again.

I picked up a pillow, breathing in the scent of him—I had missed smelling him, from when I'd slept with his pillow on the couch. I bit my bottom lip, and put it back gently. No, I would wait… like with his bathroom. I slipped back out of his room and, sighing, went around the house turning off lights and locking doors and windows before retreating to my room with a book.

I changed into a nightshirt—soft, black, fitted cotton, with long sleeves, that fell to my mid-thighs—and curled into bed, beginning to read but finally setting it back to my nightstand when it failed to keep my attention. I wondered what Gil was doing… and Catherine and Warrick and Nick. I hadn't realized, when I switched shifts, that I would be losing Greg too. He worked the DNA lab almost exclusively at night.

I missed them. …I missed Gil. It was hard, sleeping without him, even though we never shared a bed—I had simply slept more soundly with him in the house. Our house.

My mind moved back to Sofia again, and I rolled over in aggravation, punching my pillow. What did she know about me keeping his interests—hadn't he kissed me in front of my hotel room that day? Hadn't he said he'd wanted me, even though we hadn't talked in seven years? Hadn't we spent two years talking on the phone, flirting and anxiously awaiting a chance to see each other in person again? Hadn't I spent the night with him? She didn't have any of that.

I closed my eyes—that night had truly been one of the most amazing nights of my life… so out of character, but so wonderfully, deliciously, right. …And it had given us Halle. I had been so unhappy… so scared… when I found out I was pregnant, yet the most beautiful thing in either of our lives had come from our night of perfect, indescribable, overwhelming passion.

I rolled onto my back, staring at my ceiling, trying to recall the details of the night. He had worn a dark blue button down shirt, making his eyes stand out all the more and flash when he smiled. I had tripped, and he'd caught me so surely, as if those large, strong, soft hands had been made to catch me… made to hold me.

I swallowed hard. This wasn't a road to go down if I wanted my body to let me sleep any time soon, but it seemed like the thoughts were inescapable tonight. I squeezed my thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache, and I thought of other things… of Ecklie, of dead bodies, of my decomp today… and how he'd cut the lemons for me… the way his eyes had trailed over my towel-clad body as Halle hugged him…

I remembered how big he'd felt, through his pants, while he drove to his Boston hotel room… and the noises he had been unable to stifle or control… the burning in his eyes as he had all but thrown me into the room and exclaimed about my beauty. I had rarely felt beautiful in my life—I had felt beautiful in that moment, however… when he hadn't even known my name.

My hand had slipped between my legs, and I pressed against myself, lightly, teasingly, experimentally… remembering how those hands I had so often admired had rested there, slipping deeper, to make certain that I was ready… that he wouldn't hurt me. His eyes had flashed then too—a dark kind of flicker as he delved into my wetness and trailed soft fingertips over my clit.

I gasped, remembering how my body had arched up against his touch, and I let my fingers slip into that same wetness—God, but the man turned me on—moaning softly to myself.

Despite how I had responded to him, the gentle, loving, considerate man had still sought out my eyes, to make certain that I was okay with it… to let me know he was leaving the next day, in case I wanted to change my mind… like I would have chosen anything, in that moment, but to have him inside me.

And, oh, how he had _filled_ me up. I was not all that experienced—I had very little to compare him to, but I had never, ever, felt so complete and whole and… full. In a good way. As if every hole in my being, every absence in my heart, had dissipated the minute our two bodies became one.

I moved my fingers faster, my breath quickening, and then finally slipped the top digits of two fingers inside, to stroke my g-spot, leaving the pads of the bottom digits to apply pressure to the bundle of nerves he himself had teased a complete decade ago.

I remembered how he had moved within me, how my body had stretched deliciously around him, how his breathing had come hard and fast against my neck, how his eyes had snapped closed when my body tightened around him, how he had laughed, mid-moan, when I called him Dr. Grissom… and the husky—rough and yet still velvety—way he had told me how good I felt…

I bit down on my bottom lip, hard, trying to stifle myself and quiet my erratic breathing.

_God_, I was close.

That's when I heard it—Hank barked, and the front door opened.


	25. Welcome Home

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: You spoiled readers, you... Why do I do cliff-hangers and then post the next chapter an hour or so later...?

Reward my generousity with abundant appreciation for the small amounts of smut I am slowly feeding you... Please?

Hehe. :)

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Chapter 25: Welcome Home…

The night had been ridiculously slow—Warrick's trick roll had been open and close. The woman on the surveillance camera going up to the room and then leaving not fifteen minutes later with the man's wallet in her hand was still in the hotel bar downstairs, trying to pick up another victim. He and Catherine and I had spent an hour in the break room, before Catherine commented on my appearance—I'm sure I looked like hell.

"Are you tired, Gil?"

I shake my head, and then yawn. They laugh at me.

"I just… I just got used to sleeping nights, and now I'm switching back to days… it's going to be hard, for a while."

"Well… it's not like we're busy. Why don't you just take off?" I start to shake my head again, and another yawn forces its way up. Catherine scoffs at me. "Seriously, I promise if we need you, we'll call you back in to finish the shift. Go home. Get some sleep."

I want to argue, but I am tired… and the night is slow… and though I expected to have piles of paperwork to catch up on, Catherine had taken care of everything while I was gone. …And I miss Sara, and Halle. I sigh, reluctant still.

"You _will_ call, even if it's a small case?"

She chuckles. "I will call if we need you. Get out of here."

And so I leave—with a spring in my step—excited to get home… Maybe I could have some time with just Sara. Not that I didn't love Halle—she was my whole world—but it would be nice to have some one-on-one time, now that we weren't so much at odds anymore.

I parked in the driveway, choosing to go through the front door rather than the garage, because I didn't want the sound of it opening to wake Sara if she'd already gone to sleep. The garage was right beneath her bedroom. I pull out my keys, sliding the lock over just as Hank lets out a bark. I swing the door open, and he hurries over to me to lick my hand and get an ear scratch. Some guard dog.

I softly close the door, keeping the lights off, because I still don't know if she's asleep. Hopefully Hank's bark hadn't woken her, if she'd gone to bed early. She had looked very tired at supper tonight… these strange shifts were going to get to us, sooner or later, I was sure of it. It would be easier when Halle was in school—then I could sleep through the mornings, after shift.

I slip my shoes off and Hank walks away, deciding I'm not going to give him the attention he wants and I'm about to start up the stairs when I hear Sara some ways above me.

"Don't move." I hear the sound of a gun cocking. My eyes widen, and I freeze, just like she tells me to.

"It's me, Sara."

"Gil?!"

The light above the staircase flickers on and I blink rapidly, my eyes trying to adjust. I had only a moment to take in the sight of her before she flung herself down the steps and into my arms—but it was a moment that I was unlikely to forget for the rest of my life.

She had stood at the top of the stairs, legs parted in a textbook shooting stance, one further forward than the other, her right hand gripping the gun while her other had reached out to turn the lights on. She was clad in possibly the shortest night shirt I had ever seen—black—and made from a fabric that positively clung to her body, leaving no curve in question.

I could see two erect nipples through the thin fabric, and the void across her stomach where her belly button is, and the precise moment when her hips become her thighs.

And god, those thighs… I hadn't seen them in a decade, and yet they had not suffered in the time—if anything, she was more beautiful than she had been as a nineteen year old girl… long, tensed muscles angling down into sculpted calves and the contradictory soft pink toenails—contradictory because every other part of her looked anything but soft. In truth, I was simultaneously frightened and aroused.

But none of this could compare with the sight of her face, framed by a messy halo of tousled chocolate curls—her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and bright, her lips looking almost swollen, like she'd been biting them, or engaged in intense kissing…

All this was taken in in the moment before she hit my chest, her gun abandoned at the top of the stairs, her shaking arms gripping my shoulders tightly.

"Oh, Gil! I heard the door and… you were supposed to be working! …And I didn't think Hank would bark at you, and then the lights didn't come on… and I kept thinking about that last crime scene… Tom and Erika… I wasn't going to let them get her this time!"

She shudders and grips me and sounds like she's crying, although her eyes are dry, and I hold her tightly, reveling in the feel of her body against mine—because the fabric beneath my fingers is very, very thin. I almost think I smell sex in the air—the scent of arousal… but then, when the body goes into fight or flight mode, all the body systems become aroused—adrenaline rushes will do that to you.

…Even if there was a perfectly scientific reason behind it, the idea of Sara in her tiny pajamas, clinging desperately to my body, and aroused, for whatever reason, is… incomprehensible. My head swims with the concept. I take a step back, simply to ensure that I can think clearly… that I can even speak.

She looks a little sheepish, now, and I wrap an arm around her shoulder to comfort her, leading her back up the stairs. She scoops up her service weapon when we reach it, immediately putting the safety on and unloading it—we had decided that, with a child in the house, we would always keep our guns unloaded and kept separate from ammunition, which would always be kept locked.

I give her a sideways glance. "…That was fast. You had to load your gun and everything…?"

She smiles a little shyly. "…I guess my motherly instinct kicked in."

I chuckle. "Remind me not to bait the momma-bear in you."

She laughs, and then draws in a deep breath, as if she's still shaking off her fear of an intruder in our home. Her head falls on my shoulder. "How come you're home so early…?"

"Slow night. Did I wake you?"

For some reason I don't understand, she blushes and looks away from me. "No. I… was reading."

I nod, smiling softly at her. She's so strange sometimes. "Well, uh… if I'm going to get back on a normal schedule, I have to stay up… but if you wanted to sleep… don't let me keep you up."

She shakes her head. "I couldn't sleep anyway…"

And though I don't know where I came up with the courage, I ask her, "We could watch a movie, in my room, until you're tired…?"

She smiled at me, those deep brown eyes dancing. "Yeah, that… sounds great!"

We turned into my room, and as I moved to my limited DVD collection, I watched out of the side of my eye as she climbed onto my bed, unintentionally providing me with a glimpse of light pink underwear—a modest cut, a modest color, but slightly damp…—that perfectly match those toenails.

I clear my throat, asking her what she wants to watch, trying to get the picture of a sex-faced, bare-legged, black-clad, gun-toting Sara Sidle out of my head.

Maybe the movie hadn't been such a good idea…


	26. Intimacy

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Thanks, as always, for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 26: Intimacy

I curled into his bed, trying to hide how badly I was shaking—as soon as I'd heard the door I'd been scrambling for my gun, my mind filled with pictures—of both the scene in which Erika and Tom had been found dead, and of Halle in the car with those men… Halle in the rest area… I hadn't actually seen it, but I had imagined it, dreamed of it, so many times that if felt like a memory. And now that it was nothing… I needed the reassurance of his presence. I needed to feel safe.

I couldn't go back to my lonely bedroom knowing he'd be awake, all night, just across the hall. It had been such a relief that he'd asked me to watch a movie… given me an excuse to stay close to him. He asked—in a strange voice—what I wanted to watch, but I had seen his movie collection and it was limited.

No romantic comedies, at all. He had movies like The Manchurian Candidate and The Graduate. I grinned at the thought, but pushed it from my mind. I was half-naked in the man's bed, I didn't need to point out our age differences by watching Mrs. Robinson in action. He had lots of documentaries, a few action films, a few foreign films…

I puckered my lips in thought. "Maybe we should watch one of my movies…"

He laughed out loud at that. "So we can watch generic-beautiful-woman fall in love with generic-beautiful-man? If I'm lucky, generic-beautiful-man will be funny, and generic-beautiful-woman will have a funny friend, and—"

"I get. No chick flicks. I have other… genres in my movie collection."

He grinned, putting in a movie and turning the lights off. "No, you don't… I've seen your collection." He moves to his side and slides into bed, coming to rest slightly closer to me than I expected, or the size of the bed demanded. I didn't mind though…

"So, what are we watching?"

"The lifecycle of the Egyptian Bollworm—_Earias insulana_."

I turned to look at him in alarm. "You're… you're kidding, right?"

He turned an innocent gaze on me. "Would I joke about insects…?"

My eyes are wide—there is no way I can sit through two hours watching some worm do worm things while I'm inches away from the man of my dreams, in his bed, in the dark, and so sexually frustrated from the abrupt interruption, the adrenaline rush of fear, and his proximity, that I could scream…

I breathe in deeply. "Maybe we should watch something else…" He chuckles as the movie comes on—not an insect documentary, but The Lion King.

I look at him in surprise. "I tried to talk Halle into watching the documentary while you were cleaning your apartment and I was packing up the townhouse… when I came back, she had put this in the case, but I couldn't seem to find my movie… I think she's hiding it."

I giggled, and then laughed out loud, rocked forward with the force of my laughter. "Oh, poor Gil! She took your bug movie…" I giggle again, and this time, rocking forward, I come in contact with his shoulder. I flinch and look up in surprise, but he's laughing too, apparently oblivious—or at least not bothered by—our contact.

Hesitantly, I rest my forehead back on his shoulder, still softly chuckling, and I feel a gentle arm come around my back. I sigh contentedly, and together we lean back against the headboard, my cheek on his shoulder, his chin pressed to my forehead. After a moment, I laughed again.

"We're not really watching this, are we…?"

He grins. "Do you have a better idea?"

I smirked and bit my bottom lip. I had a fabulous idea, but instead I raised my eyes to him, keeping those thoughts to myself. "Yeah… tell me about your night."

He smiled softly, picking up the remote and turning his television off. The noise died with the light, and we were left in the dark, curled up together in a way we never had. I drew in a slow, deep breath.

"It was slow, but that was nice. I sent Warrick to a trick roll—he found the girl still in the lobby, was back in an hour. Nick and Sofia went to a 419. Catherine stayed to catch me up on cases—which took about all of a half hour. They pretty much closed them all… all of the big ones, anyway. And then I thought I'd work on paperwork, but she'd done all of that too… The team," he chuckles a little awkwardly, "asked about us… asked _how_ we'd gotten Halle."

I giggle, but it's strange—too breathy, for me. I swallow hard. "What did you tell them?"

I can head the laughter in his voice. "I told them it was pretty obvious _how_…"

I giggle again, mostly to cover my disbelief that we're discussing that night openly. It was something we…didn't do. If was like he'd given the lecture at Harvard and Halle had been a product of the eye-sex alone, rather than the real sex which had followed. The real and amazing and completely earth-shattering, mind-blowing, body-numbing sex. _Yes._ That sex.

He smiles at my laughter and I swear his arm tightened around me, but it was hard to be certain…

"Well, anyway, Nick said to tell you that they all miss you, and that Halle's a sweetheart. He's already invited the team over 'sometime' so they're expecting an invitation any time…"

I grin. "Oh, Nicky. I miss the team too… I hate day shift. …Although, I think, other than Ecklie, you might have gotten the worst person from day shift…"

I say this because I want his reaction to the woman… I want to know if she's a threat, even though I have no intention of pursuing the man. In theory.

He laughs. That's a good sign. "Sofia? She hardly spoke, I don't know what to think of her yet. The only thing she asked about was if we were living together, and wasn't it a violation of lab policy?"

I cleared my throat. "Oh? What did you say?"

"I said it would have been, but we hadn't moved in until you switched shifts. Although, I suppose it really wouldn't have been a violation… our living arrangements being what they are. Still, some defense attorney would have misconstrued…"

I nod, biting my bottom lip again. I wish there was a light on—I can't see the expressions on his face. It makes his meaning—his emotions—hard to decipher. He sighs, softly, and his fingers move into my hair, running through it gently. I almost feel like he doesn't realize he's doing it—even the way his fingers move is absentminded… like his thoughts are elsewhere. And then he speaks, softly.

"Grave is going to be different without you… everyone on the shift was better, when you moved here. Greg tried so hard to impress you that his productivity almost tripled…" He snorts a laugh and I can't help but join him—not at Greg's expense, I love Greg, but at how endearing his exuberance is.

"Warrick became a straighter arrow—not only because I had you check up on him. I think when he compared himself to Nick, he saw equal talent but less confidence… Nick was content to second-guess himself and seek my input… and Catherine had been a CSI so much longer. But you both had just moved up to level three, neither of you lacked confidence… if he wanted to keep his own high opinion of himself, next to you, he had to step up his game…"

He sighs, heavily. "Nicky competed much more openly with you, but, I think, upon seeing that he measured up… he was more confident himself. And Catherine… Catherine, I think, relied on being the only woman on the team to justify throwing her weight around… getting her way. You… were so professional. You never demanded, or expected special treatment, or got emotional… It made her modulate her behavior. …I don't know what we're going to do without you."

I let my eyes wander over the obscure shapes of the furniture in his darkened bedroom. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you change, when I joined the team?"

He's quiet for a long time, so long that I don't think he's going to answer my question… but he does.

"I changed so much, Sara. I… I learned to question myself, and that… science needs to be looked at, if not through an emotional lens, then at least with an awareness of emotion. I started looking for the why, not as much as the how, but… as if it were important too. I started to look at the job as a way to better people's lives, not just give justice after death… I… Sara, you… You made me become more than a scientist."

I look up at him, only the outline of his features visible in the dark of the room, despite the time my eyes have had to adjust. I swallow hard, feeling tears in my eyes, and trying to blink them away, but I can't. They slip down, silently, but somehow he knows—his free hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing them away softly, and for one glowing, indefinable, unbelievable moment, I believe he's going to kiss me.

But then the moment passes—he tears his eyes from my face and, with a parting brush, his hand moves from my face. I draw a trembling breath, trying to control my disappointment, and the arm around my back pushes me tighter against his chest. I let my head fall, and though I spent the rest of the night in that position, we did not speak again. I fell asleep maybe an hour later.


	27. Grilling Out

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update. I seem to do this story in spurts, with long dry-spells in between. So, hopefully I'll have several more chapters up in the next few days. As always, proof-reading was minimal, so I apologize for typos and mistakes.

Let me know what you think! :)

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Chapter 27: Grilling Out

Everything was easier when Halle was back in school—I honestly didn't know how Catherine had managed with Lindsey, all this time. It had been far too hard to come home, catch an hour or two until she woke up, spend the day with her, sleep another couple hours after Sara came home, and then eat and put her to bed to head back in. Forget about pulling doubles—the team had had to pick up my slack, because it simply couldn't be done.

At least now that she was in school, we would put her to bed, I would leave, and if I needed to stay late I could—Sara dropped her off on her way into the lab—and I could sleep until 2:30 if I needed to, when I had to get up and ready to go pick Halle up. Then I had time to spend with her until Sara got home—and I would cook, in part because Sara wasn't much of a cook and in part because it gave Sara some one-on-one time too. We'd eat as a family, and spend the night together… helping with homework or watching television until Halle's bed time.

We both got to tuck her in and, if she went to bed quickly—no asking for extra stories or just one more drink of water—Sara and I had an hour or so to ourselves… provided I'd gotten ready for work earlier in the day.

It worked out well, although the schedule was better, but not ideal, and Sara and I were very compatible—other than the fact that she didn't enjoy insect documentaries any more than she enjoyed animated lion movies. And I loved having time, each night, just to sit and talk to her… get to know her.

Sometimes, though, I felt like she skirted around things… I talked about my mother—who, though initially confused, was absolutely thrilled to discover she had a grandchild—coming to visit, and then asked again if she didn't want anyone to come see the life she'd built. She had said she didn't have a family, but I knew for a fact she'd mentioned a brother, once or twice…

When I asked about him, she'd shrugged. "Andrew and I never really… kept in touch. I wouldn't know how to contact him now anyway."

I half-smiled. "We're in law enforcement, Sara… I'm pretty sure we can track him down."

She shook her head. "Thanks, Gil, but… I don't really want to track him down."

When I looked confused, she sighed deeply and too-conveniently noticed the time, commenting that I was going to be late if I didn't hurry. I didn't push it, and left without a word, but it worried me…

And in the mean time, we were becoming closer and closer without actually having anything between us. She hugged me more than she ever had… when we sat next to each other on the couch, she sat close—I found it only natural to place an arm around her, and she would lean into me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her too.

On my rare nights off, Sara would come watch movies in my bedroom and fall asleep there, more often than not. On her rare days off, she would go drop Halle off and make breakfast, ready to be eaten in bed when I got home. And then I would fall asleep in her bed.

In September—when we truly were in the swing of our new lives, and Halle seemed to be adjusting… she talked about school and friends and teachers... she smiled more, and rarely didn't answer, the way she sometimes used to… there were few sullen silences—we invited the team over.

I picked Halle up from school and made sure the house was clean and gave her a bath—in Sara's bathroom, which made me smile for a myriad of reasons—before Sara came home. She jumped in the shower just as I was firing up the grill, and by the time she'd made it down the stairs and started pulling salads and side-dishes from the fridge, the doorbell was ringing.

Halle moved from the reclining lawn chair she and Hank had somehow been sharing to stand close to me, her book lying abandoned. I squeezed her hand.

"You don't need to be nervous, Hal'. They're really nice, I promise…"

She nodded and hugged me quickly, before slipping back into the chair and into an even smaller space, because Hank had taken the opportunity to stretch out. In another moment, Sara appeared with Nick following behind her—clad in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, with a faded brown cowboy hat on his head.

I smile at them, and glance at Halle. She's watching him warily over the top of her book, but there's a small smile on her face.

"Nick, you remember Halle. Halle, hon, do you remember Nick?"

She nods and sits up, her book falling in front of Hank, who licks the cover lazily once or twice.

Nick crouches down to be at her level. "Hi Halle. I've heard so much about you... Griss says you like horses. I could teach you ride, sometime, if you'd like…?"

She nods, her smile growing, and I watch her eyes move up to his hat. "Gil wears silly hats too."

Nick laughs and grins in surprise, taking his hat and promptly placing it over her long, auburn curls. "Now you do too. You're in the club."

She giggles and Hank lifts his head to smell the hat, as if to make certain it isn't an intruder, and the doorbell rings distantly.

Sara turns to run and answer it, and I gesture Nick to the cooler where the sodas are presently residing. He takes one, and then Lindsey comes rushing out with Sara and Catherine in tow, running up and hugging me. "Uncle Gil!"

I grin and hug her tightly and then guide her over to Halle, making the introductions—Lindsey is a little older than Halle, but only by a year or so—and the girls make instant friends, which means that Halle only spares a smile and a wave to Warrick, Greg, Jim, and Sofia as they each arrive. Sara gives me a look after leading Sofia out to the patio, and I realize I'd never mentioned that she had walked in on me telling the others about it—saying that Sara and I wanted the 'team' over. I hadn't had the heart to tell her she wasn't invited—that in my head, she wasn't a part of the team. Sara was.

Within fifteen minutes, Sara and Catherine are yelling at the girls to come inside from the swing set and I'm taking burgers, hot dogs, and a couple veggie burgers (on a separate plate, of course) off the grill to rest on the table inside. Lindsey and Halle each on bar stools at the kitchen island, and the eight of us adults squeeze around a table meant for six, but it's a comfortable kind of squeeze. The kind you can't have with strangers—only family.

By the time everyone has finished, our shift is only a few hours away and Halle and Lindsey are starting to show signs of sleepiness. Sara directs me to give a tour before we kick everybody out, and she starts cleaning up the kitchen. I grin and pull her by the hand to accompany us. "I can help you with all of that, once they leave…"

So we toured the house together, pointing out the different things we'd liked when we first looked at the house or changed since we'd moved in. Catherine practically squealed at the sight of Sara's bathtub, and the guys seemed to find it humorous that my long-lost daughter would have loved butterflies all along, before ever knowing me. Sofia paid a strange amount of attention to both Sara and I's bedroom—scrutinizing, really. It made me wonder if I had left dirty underwear on the floor or something…

From the look Sara gave her, she didn't like the careless intrusion into our privacy either.

And finally, when they all left to run home and change before shift, Catherine probably preparing Lindsey for bed, Sara told me not to worry about the dishes—she wanted to get Halle in the tub and to bed, so she'd take care of them later.

My girls went upstairs, and I started on the dishes and the clean up anyway. Sara deserved a night off… and if the work was done by the time Halle went to sleep, we could have our _us-time_ tonight, which would be an unexpected surprise. A pleasant surprise. I was beginning to cherish that hour or so each night when I was allowed to monopolize her attention—the brief moments when she was just _mine_.

And I wasn't going to give them up for just about anything now that I had them… much less a few dirty dishes.


	28. Tucking In

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: There might still be another one coming up tonight. Hopefully. Please review, I'm attempting to spoil you lovely readers again. :) Enjoy!

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Chapter 28: Tucking In

I hurried Hal' upstairs and into the tub, because her bedtime was fast approaching, but she was talkative tonight, as she usually was when she'd been worked up by something. I supposed finding a new friend in Lindsey would have that effect. She chattered happily about her and Lindsey chasing Hank and playing Barbies in her room and how Lindsey said her mommy and Gil and I touched dead bodies _every day_ and wasn't that yicky?

I chuckled softly, listening intently, and told her that it was yicky at first, but you learned not to be grossed-out because you were trying to find the bad guys. I told her about how I found tiny clues about bad guys on those people, and it was their way of telling me who to put in jail. This seemed to satisfy her curiosity, and she didn't seem so revolted by the idea of our jobs.

She asked me about the bad guys again—but the trail had gone cold. Nick had fingerprints and shoe prints and all sorts of evidence… but no name, no suspect to compare it to. I told her we were still working on it, but even if we never caught him, I would never ever let anyone hurt her again.

This seemed to satisfy her.

And then she started a line of questioning that was harder, if it was possible to be more difficult than dead bodies and the lack of justice she'd received for the death of her parents.

"Lindsey said it's weird that I call you Sara."

My lips pucker in thought. I smile softly. "Well, I just don't think Lindsey understands the situation, honey."

"No, she knows. She said her mommy said you and Gil made me, and my mommy and daddy were taking care of me. But she said that my mommy and daddy weren't my _real_ parents, you were. She didn't know my mommy and daddy are dead though. But she said that—"

"Halle, honey…" I brush my hand over her wet curls and cup the side of her face gently.

She nods, and there's a flicker of the emotion I know she had been hiding, even if there had been no outward signs.

"Honey, there's no such thing as 'real' or 'fake' parents, okay? Your parents were your parents, and Gil and I are you parents, we just had different roles in your life. All that means is that you have more people who love you like a daughter…"

"But Lindsey said that I shouldn't call you Sara and Gil. That it probably made you sad and that I should call you Mommy and Daddy but… but…" Her big, blue eyes are full of tears and her bottom lip quivers.

"Baby, hey, don't cry, okay? Look at me…" She hesitantly lifts her gaze to mine, and I try to smile as comfortingly as possible. "I promise you, cross my heart, honey, that it doesn't hurt Gil or I's feelings that you don't call us Mommy and Daddy. I _promise_." I emphasize, because she looks a little uncertain. "And, Halle… I know that, for you, the words 'mommy' and 'daddy' mean your parents… the parents you grew up with. Gil knows that too. It only makes sense that you wouldn't call us that… Maybe there's… even a small part of you that feels like it would be a… betrayal… to call us that?"

This might have confused most nine year olds, but I knew Halle would understand my words. She was as intuitive as she was smart. The tears spilled over as she nodded, and I clucked my tongue softly, reaching for her purple towel.

"Come here, sweetheart, stand up…" She stands with trembling feet and I wrap the large fluffy towel around her, scooping her up into my arms rather than helping her step out. Wordlessly I carry her through the doorway into my bedroom and tuck her into my covers, sliding in behind her and wrapping my arms around her. She snuggles against my chest as the sobs begin to break from her lips.

"Halle honey…" I soothe, rubbing her back softly, pressing soft kisses to her wet, dripping head. "Listen, baby… your mommy and daddy loved you so much. And they would never, ever be mad at you for calling somebody else mommy and daddy. Ever. They would want you to be happy. But, Halle… if _you_ don't want to call us that, it will never ever hurt our feelings or disappoint us. Okay?"

She nods through her tears but remains wrapped up in my arms and within minutes has cried herself to sleep. I hold her tightly, running my hand over her hair, trying to send as much love and reassurance into her dreams as possible.

It isn't long before Gil appears in my doorway, looking confused at first, but even from the doorway the red streaks from her tears are visible. His head tilts and an expression of remorse crosses his face, his eyes so much softer in this expression than at any other time. He moves into her bedroom and I hear him opening and shutting a drawer before he returns, a nightgown in tow.

I smile and sit up slowly, her small body still cradled against my chest. Slowly, gently, he pulls the towel away from her body and spreads it over the pillow, to absorb some of the water still clinging insistently to her curls and dripping down her back. He bunches up the nightgown and slips it over her head, and then lets her head fall back to my breast, pulling the rest of her body gently away from me to pull it down and slip her arms through.

His fingertips brush over my body in his efforts, but I don't react the way I would expect—it still thrills me, but not as a new or exciting touch… it feels natural. It feels the way you would expect the father of your baby's touch to feel… comfortable. And I react to it simply—enjoying but not expressing surprise or embarrassment or overt pleasure at his touch… it feels like the way a wife would respond to the gentle, accidental caresses of her husband.

He pulls the nightgown the rest of the way down her body and I slide back down into bed, pulling her to lay with me. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't wake, and I look back to Gil and smile softly. He gives me a soft smile too, but it's almost regretful… and I realize that normally we'd be curled up on the couch spending some time together… and that he has to go in to work in an hour and a half.

I feel my eyes soften too, and I tilt my head, gesturing to the open space on the bed behind me, because Halle is curled up against the edge of the bed. He smiles wider, and no words are needed. He slides into my bed, wrapping himself around me and Halle, a protective force around us, keeping us warm and safe.

I don't mean to, but I feel myself starting to drift off as we lay basked in the comfort of the moment, our own little family. I slip in and out of sleep, waking to feel Gil's fingertips running gently over my bare arms in a caress that raises goose bumps, and again to feel him squeeze both Halle and I tighter to him, and a final time to feel the press of his soft lips to the back of my neck, where it curves into my shoulder. As they break contact, he slides out of bed, leaving for his shift… leaving a soothing stillness behind him, Halle's warm breath coming soft against me, reminding me of his breath on my neck.

My last coherent thought is of his lips… and how, just maybe, he could still want me.


	29. Not Sleeping

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Oh you spoiled kids you. :)

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Chapter 29: Not Sleeping

I took the night off. I called Catherine, asked about how many scenes we had—and when her response was three, but one was a simple robbery, I told her I was going to stay home… that Halle had had kind of a break down after they all had left, and Sara really needed the sleep, so I was going to stay with her. I told her to call me if she needed me… and then I returned to Sara's bed, wrapping myself around my girls again.

She had fallen asleep so quickly in my arms—as if I provided some comfort she hadn't had alone. And I hadn't been able to help myself but to run my fingertips over her soft, soft skin… to squeeze the pair of them into me, to feel them close… to press a kiss to the soft curve of Sara's neck, when I got up to go to work. …That idea had lasted all of five minutes, however.

Because I couldn't get it out of my head how she had responded to those touches, even in sleep. Goose bumps trailing down her arms, a soft moan of approval when I hugged them, a gentle shiver when my lips made contact. It made me wonder whether she would react this way if I were as bold when she was awake. She curled into my arms readily when awake, so she couldn't be completely opposed to the idea of closeness.

But to push this, with her awake… would it make her uncomfortable? Would she start distancing herself, or simply tell me that it wasn't welcomed? …And in either scenario, would it disrupt the delicate balance we had achieved in our home together? Would she feel so uncomfortable around me that she wouldn't want to live with me anymore? …Would we lose all of the closeness we'd found in these past weeks?

Still though… she was asleep now.

I gently ran my fingertips over her arm again, watching her shiver and the goose bumps return. I smile and let my fingers drift over the small amount of skin exposed at her lower back—she moans softly again, and I move my lower half just slightly back from her. If she wakes up to my caresses, I want to be able to pass them off as nothing. My all-too-physical response to her moan was not the way to do that.

I ran my fingers down her spine next, and she shivered and stretched, rolling onto her back, with me quickly scooting to the side to give her room so she wouldn't wake. Her right arm remained wrapped around Halle, who had her head rested on her chest, her body tucked in the crook of Sara's arm. Her eyelids remained closed, however, and I allowed myself a deep breath.

I considered stopping—truly, wasn't this just a _little_ creepy?

But I wasn't touching her inappropriately… was it so strange or alarming to gently caress the arms and back of the mother of your child, who had welcomed you into the bed to cuddle?

Besides, Halle was beside her. I would never do anything like that with Halle present, even asleep.

So I ran my fingertips through her gently tangling curls, and along her hairline… over the arch of her eyebrows and down the length of her nose. I slid them along her jaw line, and traced the curve of her lips, and danced them across her collar bone.

She moaned again.

Good lord, what that sound did to me.

I let them slip along the curve of her shoulder, following the line down her arm, past her breasts, before moving to trace down the side of her body. I was a gentleman, after all… despite how tempting I found the gentle arc of her breast.

She shivered and Halle rolled away from the disrupting movements, freeing Sara's other arm. I drew in another deep breath, to keep control. Halle not being attached shouldn't make me braver. It _shouldn't_.

It did.

Her shirt was pulled up just slightly, her jeans low around her hips, the line of her C-section scar itching to be touched. My breath was coming too fast for this to not be creepy anymore. But I couldn't help myself… my fingers were twitching, and for some reason, knowing that the mark was from Halle… knowing that the life we'd made together had emerged from precisely that place… it made it all the more alluring.

Arousing, almost… to think that our long-past night of passion had resulted in such beauty… Who could doubt the perfection of our bodies coming together with such immaculate proof just inches from my wandering fingers?

They dragged softly over the scar and Sara shivered again, moaning and rolling too quick for me to anticipate—she was now pressed against my chest, the fingers of one hand gripping my shirt, her mouth slightly open, revealing just the bottom of the gap between her teeth which was inexplicably intoxicating.

After a moment's hesitation, I let my hand fall on her waist, my thumb brushing over the skin there gently. Her response was too sigh deeply and contentedly, and slip one of her long legs in between mine, hooking the other over the top, locking my upper thigh tightly between hers.

I nearly passed out from the effort it took not to wake her up with kisses and caresses of a not-so-respectful kind. I had to keep repeating to myself that Halle was mere feet from us, and my hormones needed to take a back seat to my paternal instincts.

But then, I wouldn't have need for those instincts if it weren't for the hormones…

The hand on her waist hesitantly pulls her just slightly closer to me, filling in the only remaining space between us, and remains glued there, because I don't trust where it will go if I let it move. I sigh heavily, breathing in the scent of her hair mixed with the scent of Halle's bubble bath which clings to her skin. It was definitely going to be a long night, with my raging hard-on and Sara-the-cuddler keeping me awake…

But I couldn't bring myself to move. I couldn't bring myself to try.

…I couldn't bring myself to even want to ever move from this most perfect of positions, wrapped around the woman I loved, with my little girl close and safe.


	30. Waking

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews. This should make you happy... :)

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Chapter 30: Waking

I woke up slowly, uncertain of my surroundings, at first. I was in my room—the darkness was consistent, the distant outlines of the headboard and my curtains were familiar. But I was fairly certain I had my legs wrapped around something… and as I woke up more, I realized it was a leg. I opened my eyes again—it was so hard to keep them open—and saw a solid chest in front of me, a polo shirt visible. I couldn't make out the color of the shirt, but I didn't need to. I knew the feel of him, the scent of him, the way my body ached when he was near…

I was wrapped around Gil, the fingers of my right hand clutching the front of the nondescript polo tightly, and the arm underneath my head wrapped around my back, his other hand resting on my waist. His breathing was slow and even, but not deep enough for him to be asleep. I wondered how long I had been asleep… and if I'd dreamed him leaving to go to work. He was clearly still here. …But then, no… the darkness around us was too dark. He should be at the lab right now.

I breathed in deeply and moved my head back, away from his chest, to peer up at his face in the darkness. His deep blue eyes were open, and looked striking in the darkness. I was surprised I could still make out some of the pigment, but then, I'd never known eyes so blue, so it shouldn't be surprising…

They stared back at me, a hesitant quality flickering in them that I didn't understand… but I didn't ask about it. I was just so happy to be wrapped up in him… I didn't want to break the spell of the moment. I didn't want to give him a reason to pull away from me. I breathed in deeply, slowly realizing how close we were, now that he had tilted his head down to me. I could feel the soft breath he exhaled from his open mouth against my dry lips. I licked them and swallowed, but my voice still came out rough, indicating that I'd been sleeping more than a few minutes, at least.

"You slacking off again, Nightshift Supervisor?"

A stronger puff of air escapes his lips and presses insistently against mine as he half-laughs, a smile sliding across them a moment later. "I told Catherine that Halle was having a tough time… I didn't want to leave you… to deal with nightmares, or anything, alone…"

I drew in a sharp breath. With any other man, I would have assumed that his pause after 'leave you' had been indicative of his true feelings… and the qualifying words which had followed a means to cover vulnerability. But with Gil… I could never be certain. I wanted to believe this was what he'd meant truly thinking… hadn't he kissed me, before deciding he needed to return to bed and wrap me up in his arms?

Had he?

I nod, because I haven't responded to him yet. "Thank you… I… I always sleep better, when you're here."

A softness enters his eyes and his breath seems to hitch just slightly too. I realize what I've said—I had meant that I always slept better when he was in the house… when he was at work, I was usually on edge, waking every few hours, afraid that someone was coming for my baby and I would have to fight them off alone. But what I'd actually said was true as well… I had never slept as deeply and peacefully as when we fell asleep in each others' beds, cuddled together or not, proximity alone making me calm and content.

But my accidental revelation spurred him to make one of his own, both by his reaction and by the soft, hesitant words that followed. "I… I miss you, when we sleep apart."

I swallow hard, and I can't help it—my eyes flicker to his lips, taking in their proximity again. I can feel the heat and the butterflies in my stomach, mixing together to form a hot swooping feeling that darts deep through me, settling low in my abdomen, making me far more aware of his leg pressed between mine.

"I always miss you… when we're apart."

He swallows hard too, and shifts slightly, his tongue darting out to run over his lips—they must be as dry as mine. The combination of these two motions—his shift which causes his thigh to press harder against me, and the appearance of his tongue—causes a soft, desperate, strangled sound to come from deep in my throat… not quite a moan, but unquestionably a sound of longing.

His eyes widen and I feel heat wash over me. I wonder vaguely, briefly, if he can see the color on my cheeks in the dark, or whether I can play it off as if I didn't notice the sound I made or his reaction to it… but I don't have the chance. I realize belatedly that he's lifted his left hand from my waist and it's now brushing curls off my cheek, his fingertips hesitantly caressing the skin on my cheek, his breathing coming a little faster.

His eyes are locked on mine, and I know only a split second beforehand that he's going to kiss me. He hardly has to move himself forward, we're already so close together, and I feel the feather-light press of his soft, warm lips against mine, and I have no choice but to respond… to gasp softly and move my lips against his, inviting and welcoming and deepening. His soft tongue swipes gently over my bottom lip and I tremble, over my top lip and I whimper, over my tongue and I'm lost.

The hand wrapped up in his shirt grips more tightly, pulling his chest flush to mine, and my thighs tighten around his, becoming aware, upon closing that last half inch between us, that his erection is pressing against my left thigh. I bite down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud and my whole body trembles with absolute disbelief that this is happening… that he's touching me, and kissing me, and wanting me…

He pulls away from me, his breathing rapid, and looks into my eyes. "Can we… go to… my room?"

His eyes flicker over my shoulder, at the little girl breathing softly on my other side, and then back to me, and I nod frantically, hardly able to think straight with the ache that is pulsing through my body, making me weak. He untangles himself from my limbs and pulls me almost roughly to my feet, guiding me into the hallway and across to his bedroom.


	31. Change

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Please don't punish me, for this, and not review. It will make me sad.

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Chapter 31: Change

I lead her across the hall, closing the door and locking it, in case Halle wakes up and comes to see where we are, but upon turning around, second-guess myself. I had dragged her in here based on my desire alone, not considering whether, logically, this was a good idea. …But then, she had come here willingly. She had responded to me. And she was standing at the end of my bed, waiting for me, her breathing still rapid.

She wanted me, and I wanted her. I had always, always, wanted her. There was no turning back now.

I moved toward her slowly, brushing the back of my fingers against her cheek when I got close, reveling in the heat coming off her body and the pounding of her heart in her chest that I could hear as clearly as I felt my own. She trembles, softly, her eyes closing, and I kiss her slowly, gently, breaking the contact to look deeply into her eyes.

I want to say something… meaningful. I want to tell her that it's always been her… and that Halle was the most perfect, beautiful thing I had ever seen because she was a miniature Sara… and because she was proof that the two of us combined as one was nothing short of perfect. That I never wanted this with anyone else. The only thing I can manage to get out, however, is her name, breathy and longing, carried on a whisper.

"…Sara."

She shivers and kisses me again, and I slowly back her up until her knees hit the edge of the bed. This is reminiscent of our first time, but the urgency is beneath the surface… it's there, noticeable, but not the driving force anymore… I want to take my time to discover her all over, and in more detail. I want to know each and every inch of her as intimately as possible… as intimately as a mother knows their child's body. As intimately as I knew she knew Halle's body, each freckle and birth mark and scar…

I lower her down, my arms around her, and after a moment, we inch up the bed, until her legs are completely on the bed and she's sprawled beneath me, every part of her begging me to take her for my own. I run my hands up her sides, brushing the edges of her breasts, and she moans and arches up into me, inviting my exploration. My lips move to her jaw line, tug gently on her ear lobe and move down her neck and collar bone, hands slipping under the fabric at her waist and sliding it up.

Her hands run over my chest, over my shoulders and into the curls at the back of my neck, and she grips me there, as if scared that I'll disappear if she lets go of me. But I'm not going anywhere… I'm right where I've always, always wanted to be.

Her legs are parted beneath me, and I lower myself, pressing my length against her through our layers of clothing. This is a delicious torture, easing and spurring on the burning, aching need that has settled there for both of us. The slightest increase in that pressure is enough to draw a shuddering gasp from her, and feeling empowered, I do this several times, amazed that she's having this response to me. _Me_.

I raise the shirt past her breasts, my head immediately dipping to kiss the valley between them as my hands continue to slip it over her head and off her long arms. She has to release my curls to get the shirt off, and I notice her hesitate, but she does, and the offensive clothing is tossed, my lips seeking out each nipple pressing insistently through the lace of her bra. I suck on them hard through the rough lace, knowing the effect this will have, and reveling in the guttural nature of the sounds she elicits at this action.

And then my cell phone rings. On the nightstand, in the room Halle is sleeping in.

"Shit." I break away from Sara and struggle to open the door, rushing back into her room and snatching up the phone just as Halle begins to stir. I silence it and brush my hand over her forehead a few times, until she seems to be slipping deeper into sleep. I hurry back to the hallway and into my own bedroom, where Sara is sitting up on the bed, a curious expression on her face.

"It… didn't wake her." I say, to communicate that this was why I had hurried away so quickly. Some of the tension leaves her forehead, and I move closer to her.

The phone rings again. I groan and flip it open angrily.

"_Grissom._"

"Gil, we need you to come out to a scene… triple homicide, insects galore."

"Sofia?" Why wasn't Catherine calling me?

"Catherine is on another scene, out in Red Rock Canyon. No reception. But we can't do this without you."

I sigh, heavily. "Okay, uh… I, uh… I'll be right in."

"Great. I'll text you the address of the scene."

"Bye, Sofia."

"Bye, Gil."

I hang up, turning a regretful eye to the still shirtless Sara. "I, uh… got a triple. Insects, you know."

She nods, and I can't identify the look in her eyes. It's almost… cold.

"Okay. Well, uh… I'll see you maybe in the morning. I'm gonna take a shower before bed. Goodnight, Gil."

She moved out of the room and back into her own. By the time I had reached the doorway, I could hear her locking the door of her bathroom and the water turning on. I was tempted to go bang on the door and demand answers from her, because I didn't understand how she had changed so quickly… but Halle was sleeping feet from that door, and she didn't need to wake up to something like that.

I sigh, hesitate a moment, and then head out to my scene, wondering how everything had changed so quickly. …and wondering what to expect from Sara tomorrow, because she was ridiculously hard to predict.


	32. Mistake

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: Sorry there's been such a long break in updates. :) This one is short, but in the next day or so, I should have another several chapters up. Hopefully.

Tell me what you think!

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Chapter 32: Mistake

I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, not weeping, but not because I felt no pain—I was worried my sobs would wake my baby. When I was freezing, I turned the water off and wrapped myself in the largest towel I owned and slipped into bed to warm myself, careful not to wake Halle. Once I had stopped shivering, I climbed out again and changed into pajamas, but I was restless. I couldn't sleep, couldn't sit still, couldn't breathe. In agitation I snatched up my cell phone and called Greg, who I knew had the night off—and was unlikely to be called in. The lab rats never had to pull overtime like the CSIs.

He answered, wide-awake, and I implored him to come over and watch Halle—she was asleep, it would be easy, I would pay him… I offered him any myriad of things, and laughing, he told me he'd be over in fifteen minutes if traffic was light. I sighed in relief and thanked him profusely, until he shushed me, telling me that he'd never get here if I didn't let him get off the damned phone.

He was there in fifteen minutes, though I figured that was more due to his tendency to speed than the lightness of the traffic he'd encountered. I gave him the rundown of things, even though it was unlikely that Halle would wake, and rushed out the door, calling the lab on my cell phone as I was driving and ascertaining the location of the scene. It was far out, the drive would take me at least a half hour, if I drove like Greggo.

By the time I got to the scene—parking in between two large police SUVs—they were packing up evidence, and Gil looked distracted, his eyes focused on the specimens he had collected. Sofia, however, seemed focused on the man before her, her eyes in particular lingering on lips that had been on my body just over an hour ago. I practically growled, and moved forward to approach, but was stopped by an overzealous rookie cop at the yellow tape who did not recognize me.

Shit. I had forgotten my ID.

In frustration, I told him to bring over someone else—anyone else—and I would wait. I didn't know exactly what I was going to say to Gil when I got over to him… I didn't even know why I'd come. Half of me wanted to apologize for overreacting, and half of me wanted to beat my fists against his chest and scream that I had waited for years for that moment, and he'd let it pass without a second thought. Half of me just wanted to walk up and kiss him into oblivion so that he knew, acutely, what he'd given up.

And yes, I realized that was too many halves. But I felt like I had too many pieces—too many conflicting emotions—within me, too large to fit into my single being, and so they were falling out and spilling over and throwing my sense of balance off, into a chaotic stumbling of my mind, not to mention my body.

I glanced over at them again, toying with my options, when I realized that they were finished packing, and Gil was about to leave, and my dumb rookie cop was nowhere to be seen. Damn it all to hell!

I slipped under the tape, moving swiftly toward the Denali, when suddenly my cop let out a shout and ran over to me.

"Hey! Lady! You can't come past the tape!"

Gil and Sofia turned just as the cop caught up with me and gripped my arm to stop my movements. Gil narrowed his eyes and hurried over to where I was arguing with the cop to let me go.

"Sara!" Gil came between us, giving the cop a look. "She's a CSI, let her go."

"She shouldn't be here." Sofia's lilting voice came from behind him as she moved to stand beside him—closer than necessary.

Gil turned to her, a scowl on his face. "She's a CSI, Sofia. She can come under the tape."

"Any defense attorney will question her presence here, when she's involved with one of the lead CSIs on the shift."

Gil sputtered, looking positively angry now. "Involved? What in the hell?"

She raised her eyebrows coolly, seeming unfazed. "You two have a good charade going on, with the separate bedrooms… but I saw your home. I don't think it's a coincidence that only one bed was unmade…"

He rolled his eyes, his voice rising. "My bed was unmade because I was asleep until a half hour before I had to go pick up our daughter. I work the night shift. Sara's bed was made because she always makes it, compulsively so when company is coming over."

"I just don't think any defense attorney will believe that you two aren't involved when it's so… obvious. And she's compromising our scene by being here!"

"We are _not_ involved!!" He shouted into the stillness of the night, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. I knew that he was trying to defend my right to be on the scene, logically I knew that. …But it made no difference. It still hurt, and I still couldn't stay here with Sofia's smug expression and Gil's adamant refusal of me swimming in my ears.

I turned, twisting my hand out of the rookie's grip, and walked back to my vehicle without another word, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, at least until I could drive away. I didn't know what I'd been thinking coming out here, but it was clearly a mistake.


	33. Chase

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: Soo I'm finally updating. The next chapter will hopefully be up tonight, but I make no promises. Also, we are coming close to the end, which is exciting, because I've never finished a ff story before! ...I think I might have to do short, one-chapter Halle stories in the future. I'll miss her too much if I don't. :)

Reviews are love, and also make me post faster.

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Chapter 33: Chase

The scene made me… uncomfortable. For some reason, I felt almost as if the place were haunted—if I believed in ghosts, which I didn't. I don't. Still, it sent chills up my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I didn't like the feeling; I kept looking over my shoulder and scanning my surroundings uncomfortably. When I moved over to Sofia who stood in a circle of patrol cars with their headlights on, to give light, I found myself rather frustrated.

The body was almost completely through decomp—there were not 'bugs galore', as she had told me, but a few stragglers, seeking out the minute remaining brain matter caught between the crushed area of the skull. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Chances are these bugs won't tell us much more than we know, considering the level of decomp. Did you really need to call me in?"

She batted her eyelashes—really? I must have imagined it—at me and smiled. "Well, I know how you are about your bugs… I figured even a few might help, and I didn't want to disappoint."

Disappoint? What on earth was she talking about? I nod anyway. "Right. Well, what do you have left?"

"Just the body. I processed the scene before you came, but I didn't want to disturb the insects…" She says this with an awkward sort of pride, and I wonder why on earth she wants me to be proud of her for doing her job.

"Great. By the time I finish collecting and packing up the insects, you should be done processing and loading up the body. I have some beef jerky in the car to keep them alive… if you just bring them back to the lab with your evidence, I can head on home."

Her eyes flashed angrily, but a smile formed on her lips at the same time. "Ohhh, right. Halle's having a 'problem,' right? How _is_ the little dear?"

I raise an eyebrow. "She's fine. She just still has nightmares about what happened to her. Sometimes they're really bad."

She nods, though I can see that she doesn't think this is a good reason for me to stay home. "She's such a sweetheart… it's a shame Sara didn't tell you about her for so _long_. I would have been terribly angry if someone had _given_ my baby away."

I shake my head, bending to work while talking, so that I can get out of here sooner. "Well, it's also a shame that I slept with a nineteen year old girl, left the next day, and didn't give her my home number to reach me afterwards. I think Sara was probably pretty angry with me too."

Sofia watched me for a moment, and then bent down herself to start processing the body. "Still… once you met up with her again… once she came to work with you…"

"I'm having a hard time understanding how it's any of your business, Sofia."

She was quiet after that.

I don't know that I've ever processed a scene faster—although I really only had the bugs to worry about. I split them into specimen jars and added the beef jerky and was loading them into the Denali—Sofia on my heels, as if she'd waited to bring her evidence over until I did—when I heard an officer shout out, and turned to see Sara being restrained… rather roughly, in truth. I rushed over, attempting to get him to free her and just get Sofia to shut. the. hell. up. …and I ruined everything.

I shouted at Sofia that Sara and I weren't involved, because I wanted her to just stop fucking harping so I could figure out what Sara needed… if Halle was okay, if she was okay… but she ran away with tears in her eyes, and I knew exactly what I'd done. No bewilderment left with me sitting, not knowing what had happened, while she left without a word. I _knew_.

So I ran after her, jumping into the Denali which I had thankfully decided not to put evidence in, and followed her home—too rapidly, but then, she was speeding too… and I didn't want to lose her. In more ways than one.

She parked in the driveway and flung herself out of her car, hoping, I imagine, to make it inside and lock herself in her room before I got to her, but I couldn't allow it. I parked at the end of the driveway, as soon as I was fully out of the street, and bolted out after her. She was half-way up the steps to the front door when I caught her, pulling her back down into the lawn to prevent our voices from waking Halle… or alarming Greg, whose car I had nearly run into.

I gripped her upper arms rather tighter than was necessary and turned her to face me, but she kept her head down. I knew she was crying, and that she didn't want me to see, and all I wanted to do was to make it better. As they have a thousand times before this, words failed me, and I floundered.

My mouth gaped, I stuttered to speak, and she sighed heavily. "It's fine, Gil. I'm a big girl, you don't have to talk to me about what happened. I get that tonight was a mistake and that you don't see the two of us as _together_. I'm not going to take Halle from you or start acting weird on you or anything… so, it's… it's fine." Her voice broke on the word, and she stubbornly twisted out of my grip, leaving my hands feeling so very empty.

I shake my head, slowly. "_No_, Sara. I… it wasn't a mistake, tonight." There. That wasn't so bad. No foot in mouth, yet.

She sniffles and turns away from me, heading towards the street rather than our home. "Okay. Thanks Gil. I'll be in in a little while…" she waves feebly behind her back and glances both ways before hurrying across the street and into the little park that was there. It was less of a traditional play park and more of a walking and biking path park. Big trees and lush greenery.

The lack of playground meant I had never taken Halle there, but after only a brief hesitation, I followed after Sara quickly, hoping she had stayed on the path. Reaching the other side of the road and the beginning of the path, I hurried down it, though it was considerably darker under the umbrella of the trees. I was fairly sure I'd seen her leave the path maybe twenty feet up, and I raced after her, eager to catch her and not to get lost in here myself.

Twenty feet ahead there was indeed a small foot path that I would not have noticed if I hadn't been looking for where she had left the pavement. I tore off through it, amazed that there was an area with this many trees in Vegas. How had I not known about this, even when I'd lived across from it for how long now? It was certainly not like a forest… the trees were well spaced and the lawn was mown and certainly frequently watered, despite the drought concerns. But still... rather amazing.

And then I found her, deep into the trees. They were widely spaced enough for me to distantly see the street if I looked for it, though I doubted anyone standing on the sidewalk could see more than ten feet in, especially in the dark. She was sitting with her back against a large trunk, and I could tell she was crying again.

I sighed deeply and tried to approach her quietly, but of course, a number of twigs snapped under my feet as soon as I had the thought. She didn't look up, but her sobs quieted and I crouched in front of the knees she had drawn to her chest.

"Sara?"

She didn't look at me. She sniffled, loudly.

"Sara, honey, tonight wasn't a mistake. It's… It was only and exactly what I've been dreaming of, nonstop, since I met you."

She lifted her face, hesitantly, and I smiled a little sheepishly, embarrassed at my own admission.

"I, um… I was an idiot, to say that to Sofia, honey, but… it wasn't because I don't want to be with you or because tonight didn't mean anything to me. …It did. It… I just… she'd been.. baiting me since I got there, and I was mad I'd been called away from you to a scene with hardly any insects, and the whole place made me feel uncomfortable, and I just wanted her to stop talking already so that I could hear what you needed and what you were on the scene for an—"

She kissed me, softly, hesitantly, and pulled away slowly. "…You're overtalking."

I smile, relief washing through me. "I think I learned it from you…" I moved onto my knees and at my movement she let her own fall flat, so that I could move in front of her on all fours and press my lips to hers again, unencumbered.


	34. Kiss and Make Up

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! ;)

Review?

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Chapter 34: Kiss and Make Up

"…You're overtalking."

He smiles that sweet, boyish grin I love. "I think I learned it from you…" He moves from crouching to kneeling and my legs slide down to the ground almost without thought. He literally crawls over to me, and kisses me. It is not a soft brushing of lips, not a deep exploration of mouths… just a firm, insistent press of lips. It is solid, and reassuring, and full of promise.

For a moment, I simply hold myself there, basking in his presence… but the extreme emotions I have run through this night wear on my patience, and I find myself unable to remain still… unable to keep from peeking my tongue out to play teasingly on his lips, until we are kissing deeply, desperately, longingly.

I move my body to one side so that I can lie back beside the tree which had been at my back and in doing so I break our kiss. He chuckles softly and crawls up my body again, whispering against my lips. "Outside, my love?"

My heart hammers at the word 'love' and I draw in a sharp gasp, kissing him passionately again. I had not necessarily intended to consummate our new relationship outside, but his somewhat-declaration had my head spinning and the blood pounding in my ears, making me light-headed. The only thing I knew with certainty was how fiercely I needed him and how madly I loved him.

He laughed softly against my lips again, but posed no opposition when my hands slid down his chest and, with a patience that belied my urgency, slowly moved my hands up under his shirt, sliding it up so that it bunched over my wrists. He lifted his arms over his head and it was removed quickly.

Goosebumps trailed over his exposed skin and I smiled softly. "I'm sorry, are you cold?"

He bent and kissed me. "You'll warm me up in a minute…" He hooked his fingers under the hem of my shirt and pulled it up and off my body almost roughly, bending his head again to my chest. "Now, I think we left off about… here?" He pressed his lips around a nipple, already pressing hard against my bra from the cool of the night and his attentions, and sucked it hungrily into his mouth, the scrape of the lace making it a lovely mixture of pleasure and pain.

I moaned, my hips lifting up insistently, causing him to chuckle softly again. "…Does that feel good, honey? I imagine you haven't been waiting for it too long?"

I groan softly. "Only a decade. …You weren't this talkative ten years ag…ag…ohhh." His mouth had moved to the other breast, his left hand pinching the sodden nipple through the lace and his right now palming between my legs. I was lost.

"I never talk the first time… too nervous. … but this? This isn't a first for us, darling. Loving each other. We've spent years and years loving each other…"

His hands moved to my waist and slid my jeans down slowly, deliberately, trailing kisses behind, causing goose bumps to break across my skin from my scalp to the tip of my toes. I shivered deliciously as he nipped playfully at my inner thighs as he made his way back up to me, his breathing coming hard.

"You're… so beautiful."

Tears swam in my eyes but I blinked them back. I had waited so very long for this moment, and I wasn't going to ruin it by getting emotional. I could let my happiness and disbelief overflow later—just now, I needed to have him. I needed to feel him. I needed to make him mine.

I rolled him over, away from the tree, and straddled his waist, bending to lay kisses down his bare chest while my hands fumbled with his belt and button and zipper, finally freeing him and tugging his clothing down. Perhaps, if we were being sensible, we would have retained most of our clothing for woods-sex… but then, it wasn't really romantic to keep layers between us. His chest hair against my breasts was as erotic as anything he could do below my waist.

His socks and shoes were discarded hastily when they impeded the progress of his pants and then I crawled back up to him, cold and hot all at the same time. As soon as I was above him, he was tugging me into a kiss and wrapping his arms around me to remove my bra.

My nipples twinged almost painfully at the exposure to the cool night air, and his thumbs came to soothe and warm them moments later before running down my body and hooking into my underwear at my hips and shimmying them down as best he could with me above him. I shifted out of them to help and, with both of us finally naked, wasted no time in straddling him again, using a hand to guide him inside me as I slow sank down over his heated length.

He hissed and gripped my hips roughly, his head falling back and his eyes closing tightly, his hands on me both squeezing tightly and trembling slightly. It made me feel powerful, that I had this effect on him, and I teased him slowly, circling my hips slowly until his voice came out, strangled.

"Oh _God_, Sara… you have no idea what you do to me. Oh… Oh… Please…" He dug his fingernails into my sides as his whole body trembled under my rotating body.

I bent to kiss him again—a soft, sweet, loving thing. "I love you."

I'm not certain, but it looked like tears brimmed in his eyes at my words. I felt ecstatic joy rush through me at his expression. "I know, baby. I love you too."

I kissed him again, and then starting moving back and forth against him, my palms braced against his chest and my calves on either side of him, digging into the ground beneath us and squeezing him tightly. I tried to move slowly… to make the moment last… but I had already waited so long, and my pace picked up with my urgency to feel everything more fully and completely.

His hands, still gripping my hips, held me tightly and helped me keep up my rhythm as I started getting close, my whole body bending to be closer to him as the hot shivers trailed across my body, letting me know that it was so very, very close. "Ohhh, Gil, I… I… I'm so…"

"I know baby. I know. You're… oh god…almost there."

One of his hands slid from my hip to dip between our bodies and press insistently against me, and then there was an explosion in front of my eyes that I could not possibly wrap my brain around as waves and waves of pleasure pulsed through me. I was only distantly aware of his screams mingling with mine, but I could feel him pulsing and emptying inside me, and there had never been a more gratifying feeling in all the world.


	35. Happily Ever After

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: This is the last chapter. It's short, but the epilogue should be up tonight or tomorrow. :)

I'll get sappy when I post that one. Hehe. Let me know what you think!

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Chapter 35: Happily Ever After

Sara and I walked back to our home, hand in hand, probably looking a little worse for the wear—she had leaves tangled in her hair and dirt on her face, so I could only imagine how I looked. The night was cool, and half-way there I dropped her hand and pulled her into my embrace, walking with my arms around her to make sure she was warm.

Greg said Halle hadn't woken, and that he'd eaten the rest of our Chinese food left-overs. Sara wasn't too happy, but I kissed her softly and murmured that I would order her a hundred boxes of Chinese food. Greg gave me a strange look as he stepped out the door, but Sara giggled appropriately. "Oh, honey… so sweet. You do spoil me."

Greg chuckled as he left, muttering about how he hadn't agreed to babysit so they could have sex outside, but his tone was rather good-natured. I hadn't entirely expected this, as he'd flirted with Sara since she'd started, but then Greg flirted with everyone. I locked up behind him, and turned to her, grinning.

"I think we both need another shower before bed…"

We showered in my bathroom, and though I wasn't ready to go again, I had every intention of pleasing her—I hadn't anticipated the powerful effect feeling her orgasm around my fingers and against my tongue would have, however, and then I was dragging her out of the shower and christening my bed, declaring my love to her in hushed whispers on the tail end of stifled moans.

I knew, in that desperate, sleepy moment of enlightened afterglow, that the very best thing I'd ever done was take a beautiful nineteen year old girl to my Boston hotel room and proceed love her senseless…

Oh sure, there were lots of things to think about, now.

For one thing, I didn't want to spend the nights away from Sara anymore. I wasn't certain I was ready to leave the crime lab, or even switch to day shirt—which wouldn't work anyway, unless Sara got a different job instead—but I knew it was something we'd need to talk about in the coming months.

We'd also need to talk to Halle… and, for my part, I would need to see where Sara was emotionally. Sure, I knew she loved me, but… I had spent too many years not having the family I should have had to be hesitant. If she was ready, I would marry her... maybe give Halle some siblings. If not, then I guess I would be biding my time until she was ready… it didn't really matter. I could wait.

And Halle—we needed Halle to understand where we were, and make sure she was okay with it. And when we got married—not if, when—I wanted to get Halle something too. Because it wasn't going to be the coming together of two souls, but three. The completion of a family.

Instead of slipping into sleep, as we both wanted, we rose slowly and dressed in pajamas and moved back into Sara's room—though it would be _our_ room soon, I was sure, because Sara wouldn't want to give up her bathtub.

We slipped into bed, Sara curling her body around Halle's and then me wrapping my arms around the pair of them, which was exactly the way this night had begun. And really, what better ending could there be, but our own little family, poised for our happily ever after?


	36. The End, The Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Okay, so I decided to just post them together. :) They're both short, but I didn't want to add more just to have more, you know? Substance and all that…

Anyway, this is the first fan fiction I've actually completed, and I don't know whether to cry or be ecstatic. I know that I could not have done it without all of your wonderful support, whether in the form of reviews or simply reading. It made me so happy.

And, as I love Halle too much, there _will_ be short, one-chapter stories from this world, because we have some holes to fill in. :) I did a little bit of hinting in this epilogue, so there's definitely good things to come…

Let me know what you think, and thanks again for everything!! (And now I can start another one… hehe.)

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Epilogue: The end, The beginning.

I opened my eyes slowly, and though my reflection should have been clear in front of me, it was blurry. I blinked back the tears, focusing on the picture tucked into the frame of the large mirror, half-way up. The woman was beaming, her short, dark hair fanned out around her face, her arms wrapped around a auburn-haired child, beside a more sedate-looking man, with thin glasses and light brown hair. He had a hesitant smile, but love for the two girls beside him shone clearly in his eyes. It was unmistakable.

The tears escaped down my cheeks as I heard the door behind me open and close softly. I didn't turn, but I knew who it was.

Her soft hand fell on my shoulder and I turned, hugging her tightly and burying my face in her chest as I had since I was nine years old. "I… I wish they were here, today."

She crouches down in front of me and pulls out a cloth handkerchief, wiping at the tears. "Oh, Halle, baby, I know. I wish they were too…" She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. "I know that they would have wanted to be… and, baby… if there's anything beyond this world... heaven or ghosts or anything like it, honey, then nothing could keep them from being here. You know that. They loved you more than anything."

I nod, wiping at my eyes too, and finally glancing into the mirror. "…I ruined my make-up…" I add miserably, with the implication of salt being rubbed into my wounds. She smiles softly.

"But your dress is beautiful. Let's give you a quick touch-up, okay?"

I nod, sniffling. "Thanks, Mom."

She drags my make-up bag across the vanity in front of me and within minutes I'm leaning close to the mirror, unable to pick out a sign that I'd been crying. "…You think I look okay?"

She beams at me. "Halle, honey, there has never been a more beautiful bride in the whole world. I can't wait until Jeffrey sees you in this dress…"

I hug her tightly again, and sniffle. There's a knock at the door, and then my dad peeks around the corner, the blue eyes I inherited twinkling. "Ready, Halle-Bally?"

I grin at the childhood nickname and both of my biological parents guide me downstairs, where Jeff's sister is grinning like a fool in her emerald green dress, bouquet in hand. My mom hugs me tightly, kisses my cheek, and hurries out to let the ushers seat her and Jeff's parents.

My dad squeezes the arm that's linked through his. "I can't believe my baby is all grown up…"

I blush, nudging him, blinking back the tears that are brimming again. "Daaad..."

He chuckles. "Did you see Andy?"

I shake my head. "No… does he look good in his tux?" My teenage brother was Jeff's groomsman. We had wanted a small, intimate wedding.

"Oh yeah. And he's been eyeing all of your friends already, so you might want to warn them of his overly-healthy ego. A ten year age difference won't discourage him…"

I giggle, and then Audrey turns to me, her eyes sparkling. "The music is starting, let's go!"

We move out into the bright Las Vegas sunlight and through an arch of real flowers—my mom had insisted—and my eyes take in the rows of white chairs.

I see my Aunt Catherine, next to Lindsey, and my Uncles Nick, Greg, and Warrick, with their dates. Eli waved exuberantly at me—I'd been babysitting him since he was a couple months old. My gramma is in the front, tears already sliding down her cheeks, and my Uncle Andrew—my brother's namesake—grins cheesily. When my gramma had insisted on running my parents engagement announcement in the L.A. papers, he'd come to reconnect with my mom. He'd been one of my best friends growing up.

There were other family friends, my friends, Jeff's friends and family… an inordinate amount of officers of the LVPD, and nearly half the staff of UNLV… and then, with Audrey half-way down the aisle, my dad and I stepped forward, and Jeffrey and Andy came into my sight.

With a mop of brown curls on his head, my brother looks devilishly handsome—every inch the bad boy your parents wouldn't approve of, but with a heart of gold. I glance at my dad, and he winks at me. I had a feeling it would be my friends approaching him…

And then there's Jeffrey—the most amazing man I'd ever known. He had light brown hair and freckles on his nose and a romantic soul… and he was looking at me as if he'd never seen beauty—never known love—before this moment. My dad squeezes my arm a final time, and we start down the aisle.


End file.
